


The World Turned Upside Down

by dogslpdi



Category: One Direction (Band), Pride (2014)
Genre: (also Miner Angst), (and that period is Britain in the 1980s), (including characters without accurate information), 1980s, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Darkroom sex, Discussion of the AIDS epidemic (before HIV was named), Epistolary, First Time, Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, M/M, Margaret Thatcher doesn't die, Miners' Strike, Minor Angst, Period-Typical Homophobia, Photographer Harry, Rimming, State violence, Striking Miner Louis, The catastrophic defeat of the British working class, picket lines, pride march
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 71,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogslpdi/pseuds/dogslpdi
Summary: In September 1984, Harry Styles starts at Manchester Polytechnic with two goals: to take pictures and to join the Lesbian and Gay Society.  He’s never paid much attention to the news, but everyone he meets in Manchester supports the miners.  He realises how right they are when he meets Louis Tomlinson, a striking miner who flirts with him. A month later they are both at the founding meeting of Manchester Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, trying to bring down the government.  Through letters and visits they build a relationship, in a world very much not of their own choosing.Manchester and Doncaster in the 1980s are grim, hopeful and alive. Niall is president of the Young Labour club, Nick Grimshaw is in love with the singer of an up and coming band, Fizzy wants to know more about the women of Greenham Common and Harry and Louis are brave.A Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners/Pride AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I think I have to start by thanking [gloria_andrews](http://gloriaandrews.tumblr.com) and [100percentsassycaption](http://100percentsassy.tumblr.com/) [a caption](http://gloriaandrews.tumblr.com/post/57115126901/timelessly-beautiful-pictures-of-harry-and-louis) as from their timeless series put an idea in my head that would not go away.
> 
> So many people have been incredibly generous in the making of this fic. I've had cheerleaders, people who answered my questions, editors, Brit-pickers and anti Brit-pickers. Some were good friends and others I'd never spoken to before. There were lots of pitfalls I hadn't quite thought through, such as the ambiguity of the phrase 'you two are out' in this particular context. 
> 
> I'd like to thank [Sammie](http://britpickerhl.tumblr.com) for the Britpicking, [neveragainsimon](http://neveragainsimon.tumblr.com) for the Beta-ing, [Edi-Neil](http://edi-neil.tumblr.com) for the anti-Brit-picking and beta-ing, [Dani](http://whisperedlouis.tumblr.com) for the anti-britpicking and [Annie](http://lithographarry.tumblr.com) for the questions about photography (I say questions about photography - it was mostly about the timing of darkroom sex). [Julius Schmidt](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com/) for answering my questions that were basically 'how do I write a fanfic'.
> 
> My off-line friends E and J both answered ridiculous questions and talked through the fic with me. E in particular encouraged me, Beta-ed and had long conversations about what the characters would be going through and how to convey that (love you). She also wants credit for the 'miner angst' pun in the tags
> 
> Finally thank you to [Kris](http://birdstattoo.tumblr.com/) for the artwork.
> 
> The title comes from a song Billy Bragg covered as part of his Between the Wars EP, which raised money for striking miners. When Kris asked me about songs for a playlist I responded with a ridiculous number of Billy Bragg songs. Back to Basics has his songs from this time and has profoundly influenced my understanding and I'm sure the way I write these characters.

_29 October 2014_

Ruby looked up at the brick entrance and tried to find the bravery to go inside. She’d been to the People’s Museum before with school. The suffragettes were amazing. But she was going to the archives today and that was much more full on. The material she’d been sent had said that she must use pencils not pens and it’d cost six quid a day to use a camera. She just wanted to see some papers.

A couple of weeks ago she’d been to see _Pride_ with her friend Maisie. She’d cried and cried and cried. No-one had ever told her. She knew about the miners’ strike. Grandpa had been a miner and Gran had shown her a lump of coal and said it was the last he’d ever brought up.  His lamp was on Gran’s mantelpiece. And Ruby’d been surreptitiously reading everything she could find about lesbians for a few years now. But no-one had told her that lesbians had collected money to support the miners or that miners had supported gay rights.

She had stayed up till four in the morning that night reading everything she could about Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. When she got home from school the next day she’d had a nap and then she’d started looking again. The actual documents of LGSM were here in Manchester.

So here she was, outside the People’s Museum, feeling like a fraud. She’d bunked off her last class, since the museum was only open till five. She better go in.

When she asked for directions no one said to her, “You shouldn’t be here. You’re not a real researcher. You’re just a girl.” She’d locked her stuff away and paid a pound deposit for her locker. Now she was standing in front of a grey-haired lady at a desk.

“Um, hi I’m Ruby – I made an appointment. I’m here to see material from Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.”

“Hello Ruby, love. I’ve got everything ready for you – there’s just some things I have to go through first.”

Ruby knew everything the woman said – about how important it was that these records were kept safe. She’d read the instructions about pencils and keeping everything in order. But the librarian made it seem very serious. Ruby needed to be good to the pieces of paper.

Then she was sitting down and reading the actual minutes – all type-written by Mike Jackson, who she knew from the movie and the behind the scenes footage. She read of money and meetings and visits to Wales with donkey rides.

“Oh love, I got you out a Manchester LGSM file as well – if you want to look at that.” The grey -haired archivist brought over one more file.

There weren’t many documents in the file. There were two sets of minutes; whoever took them hadn’t been as thorough as Mike Jackson. But underneath the minutes was something else, scrappy bits of paper:

 

> 29 September 1984
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> Here’s the photo I promised you. Like I said, I don’t know much about politics – or anything really. And lots of what I knew seems to be wrong. But I admire you so much for fighting – not just for yourself but for everyone you know. I want to be someone like that one day. Someone who is brave enough to fight. I’m trying to learn more about the strike and politics in general. There’s a lot to learn!
> 
> I developed the photo myself. It was strange to have control over your image – the darks and the shades. When I met you – you were so very much yourself – I can’t imagine anyone adjusting the knobs on you so you appear a little different.
> 
> Harry

Ruby had found the minutes interesting; she really had. But these letters were something else. They felt like love letters.

And there was a reply. 

> 1 October 1984
> 
> Dear Harry
> 
> Thanks for the picture. Mum loved it so much I had to give it to her (it made it easy to get her to give me a stamp to write back and say thank you. Thanks from her too.)
> 
> You made me look so strong – I don’t know if that’s really true, but it’s nice to be seen like that. I feel like lots of people adjust the knobs on me. Obviously the Coal Board are doing that right now. Trying to make us disappear or invisible or not miners anymore. Trying to pretend that none of us exist.
> 
> But also I feel like I tweak a bit around everyone. It feels like I have to. Maybe not around you. I didn’t feel like I was tweaking myself around you.
> 
> I wish I could see the darkroom and watch you develop photos. Will you show me? If I’m ever in Manchester again.
> 
> We really need there to be power cuts this winter – so that it’s clear that the government needs us.
> 
> Things aren’t perfect as they are – but imagine them being worse. Imagine being a young lad and not having a job and there being no jobs for you. Imagine how the bosses will be able to push people around.
> 
> We should make the world better for people coming after us – that’s what I was always taught in the union. That’s the whole point of a union. And if we don’t win – it’s going to get so much worse.
> 
> Sorry I’m ranting at you. I’m doing some more speaking next week – Leeds and maybe York. It’s scary, but nice I think. It’s pretty amazing when a room full of people laugh at your jokes and maybe agree with you. I can’t have done that terrible a job last time.
> 
> They won’t be as good as Manchester though. That would be impossible.
> 
> Louis
> 
> PS Don’t sell yourself short. You’re so brave. You shone so brightly to me.

 

> 3 October 1984
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> Thanks for your letter. I’ve developed some more photos with you in them. One of you speaking, which your Mum might like. And one of drinking afterwards (will your Mum like that? You don’t need to show her if you don’t want to). I’ve included a book of stamps so you don’t have to use hers.
> 
> I hope your Mum and Dad and your sisters are all alright. I was walking past a shop and saw some stickers for school books. My favourite part of going back to school was always decorating my exercise books. I bought some stickers for your sisters.
> 
> I’m glad you’re speaking in Leeds – you should go to York as well. If I hadn’t met you just beforehand I would never have believed you were nervous. You were so good Louis. I knew even less about the strike than I let on. People had sort of explained it to me and I saw that I was wrong – that you should support the miners, but I didn’t really understand. And then you talked and it all made sense. Keep going – talk to everyone.
> 
> I’m taking more pictures. We have to do a big project this year – photos all on the same theme. Sometimes I like photographing buildings. Sometimes I like photographing people. Sometimes I like doing weird abstract stuff that isn’t anything. My tutor says that’s alright. At the moment, we’re supposed to be developing two or three different options for our big project.
> 
> I went to the Rem last night – with Nick and other people you might have met. I find it so overwhelming. All the men together – I didn’t know it could be like that. It’s hard to get used to. And the way people feel free to be so different. To dress like women and not hide. I thought of you and wished you were there with me.
> 
> Harry 

 

> 5 October 1984
> 
> Dear Harry
> 
> Mum loves the photos – including the one at the pub (she likes a pint herself so it’d be hypocritical if she had a problem with me being there – although she is always on at me to give up smoking. I think the silver lining about the strike is I’ve barely been able to afford fags.) I do too – you take amazing photos Harry. I’d love to see any more photos you have of buildings, people or stuff (what I’d like most is one of you).
> 
> And Phoebe and Daisy – the twins – love the stickers. That was so lovely of you – you haven’t even met them. There’s no money for stickers. They’re big girls now and they understand, but it doesn’t make it easy. If you ever come to Edlington, there’ll be two eight-year olds who love you already.
> 
> I remember the first time I went to The Rem. I didn’t go home with anyone that night, or really talk to anyone. I just needed to see it all to believe it was there. I remember seeing two men sitting up together in the corner – and they looked a bit like Mum and Dad, just in the way they were positioned. I could barely believe it was real. I wish I could come with you too. I’d be loud now. Loud and enjoy it all. Maybe we could dress up a bit together
> 
> I did go to Leeds and I am going to York next week. Thanks for telling me I’m not rubbish. It’s so scary speaking in front of these students who you know think you’re thick. But I do it, because we need everybody. I like it when they laugh. When I get scared I think of what you told me, just before I went on.
> 
> Here are a couple of badges from our pit – wear them for me?
> 
> Louis

 

> 8 October 1984
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> Thanks so much for the badges – I wear them every day alongside the Coal not Dole badge I got from Niall (the Irish Young Labour guy – he’s the person I ask questions, when I don’t understand. Him and Nick – but Niall seems to know the details more. I’ve realised that when Nick says – “fuck the Tories” or “fuck every fucking pig there is” – it means he doesn’t know or doesn’t know how to explain). I went collecting with the Young Labour people at the supermarket. We got good money I think – and lots of people said nice things. I’m not good at answering questions, but I tried. I wish I could do more. Niall was explaining that industrial workers need to go on strike to support you. But I can’t really do that.
> 
> I’m going to try and get a job though – I want to find work at a place that does photo development or camera stuff. I could get a discount on film, it’ll supplement my grant and I’ll learn lots. I probably won’t go on strike – but I will give some of the money I earn to the miners. I never can figure out if they’re collecting for you. I know you said your family doesn’t take money from the union because your Mum is working – but I like the idea of supporting your pit.
> 
> I hope you like the photos I included. One is from a lesbian and gay soc meeting. The focus on the glass looks arty – but it was actually to make people unidentifiable. I also took a photo of Niall collecting for the miners – the woman who was giving him money looked so supportive (and he said she put in twenty quid!) The one of the union building is the photo my tutor says is the best. I think he likes buildings more than people. But I think I want to photograph people. The photo of me isn’t very good. It’s hard to take a photograph of myself.
> 
> Harry

There didn’t appear to be a reply to that one, but there was another, undated.

> Dear Harry
> 
> You’re sleeping beside me (God knows how with the racket my sisters are making this morning). This isn’t a proper letter. I’m going to send it when I take you to the train later on today. I want you to get it tomorrow: a record of how happy you make me and how much I’m going to miss you.
> 
> Love
> 
> Louis

And one more, after the end of the strike.

> 15 June 1985
> 
> Haz
> 
> You can’t say things like that. You can’t. This last year is like I’ve been attacked by some kind of wild animal and none of the wounds have healed. Not just for me, for everyone here.
> 
> I went to see Mum today while she was at work. I looked at the babies, which made me feel a bit better. And she told me that I needed to imagine what my life might look like if I wasn’t a miner.
> 
> It’s so scary – you’ve no idea how scary thinking of the future is. Because all I can see is years of having no purpose, nothing. All that stuff I said about the closing of the pits and there being no other jobs is true. What if mining is the last job I ever get? I don’t have any qualifications. I don’t know anything but coal. And that’s not going to help. I’m scared of being useless forever. At least during the strike I was doing something.
> 
> And you. Whenever I think about my future I think about you.
> 
> I love you. I love you and I still want everything we talked about for after the strike – a flat, moving to Manchester, being together. I want all of that and it’s not enough to see you on some weekends and talk on the phone where I’m scared I’m wasting your money.
> 
> But I just can’t leave now and I can’t think about what happens next and I don’t know when I will be able to think about it. I can’t help you plan your summer or your life.
> 
> I don’t want to mess you around – I want to be with you so much. Is it sex? I feel bad coming down and swooping you up and disappearing, leaving you without me and unable to explore. If you wanted to be with other guys until I moved to Manchester – as long as you didn’t tell me. Maybe. Probably not.
> 
> Pride is two weeks away. Can we talk then? I promise we can talk proper – I won’t try to distract you with kisses or getting you to talk about photography or anything. We can talk about what’ll happen for us.
> 
> This is rubbish, sorry, even with time and paper it’s not what I want to say.
> 
> I love you. I want you. Please believe me.
> 
> Love, love, love, love, love
> 
> Louis

That was it. Just these seven letters from Louis and Harry. Ruby wanted more. She wanted much more. What happened to them? Did they meet in London? Were they happy?

The librarian came over and told her that they were closing soon – did she want to do any photocopying? These seven letters were only 12 pages – £3.60. If she came back in a week, she could take copies home. She could read them again whenever she wanted. There was another Manchester LGSM file, perhaps she could learn more.

She put on her coat and scarf and hat. The sun had disappeared while she’d been in the 1980s. She walked to the station thinking of Harry and Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't watched Pride you should! It's a brilliant movie.
> 
> Come to my tumblr [dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram](http://dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram.tumblr.com). I'm going to post imges and video that I found while researching this fic (the TV shows are actual tv shows, the banners are actual banners, the copies of 1980s feminist magazines are actual copies of 1980s feminist magazines). I'd love to hear comments or questions.


	2. Manchester

_19 September 1984_

Harry is a little bit lost. He knows how to get to the art school building for his classes. But that isn’t the plan for today. Today is the clubs and socs day at the student union building. He needs to be at the student union building.

He could look at a map – there is a map, but then everyone would know that he was new and he’ll surely find it eventually. Maybe if he turns right past this church? But he is back at the park again – he doesn’t want to be at the park, he wants to be the other way from the park.

Then he heads down, not up, Oxford Road. He sees a sign saying ‘Welcome to the Mandela Building! ANC Year of the Woman’. This is the right place. He may be the wrong person, but this is the right place. He has to go in. He isn’t – everyone going in looks like they belong there and he doesn’t, but going into the student union is the first step (maybe the second – he’s already found the place after all).

Inside is a cacophony – there are stalls everywhere. He makes his way along one wall and already has a lot of leaflets (how do you say no to someone who wants to give you a leaflet? Even if he’s not here to be a Christian, very much not so).

“Want to fight Thatcher? Join the Labour Party.” He’s made eye contact too long and now a blonde Irish boy is talking to him about politics. There is a lot of red on his stall, some biscuits and a tin with a yellow sticker on it.

“Um – maybe later” Harry keeps walking.

He sees it – a table covered in black fabric with a big pink triangle and the words “Lesbian and Gay Society” painted on it. The next step is to stop. So he does.

“Hello beautiful.” The man on the other side of the stall is smiling at him. His dark hair is sticking up all over the place. His clothes are black and he has lots of badges.

“Can I join? I’d like to join. I’d like to be gay.” That is – not what he meant to say. The first other gay person Harry’s ever met and now he’ll never be able to see him again, because he’s been such an idiot.

“Like to be?” The man is laughing at him.

“I mean I am – I think I am – I come from Cheshire.”

“Did you just get here, Cheshire?” When Harry nods, the man keeps talking. “It’s fabulous that you’re here in your first week. I wasn’t brave enough to find the Lesbian and Gay Soc stall until my second year. I’m Nick.”

Harry shakes his hand, “I’m Harry.”

“Well, Harry from Cheshire – if you want to join you can write your details down here. And if you don’t want to join just yet – you can come along to our first meeting.” Nick holds out a flier.

Harry has made an idiot of himself – and kind of wants to never see Nick again. But he wants to join the group more. He reaches for the sign-up sheet.

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.” What does Nick mean? “We have to give this list of members to the Student Union. We have the fifteen people we need to affiliate. If you don’t want to put your name down on a list of gays and lesbians, it’s alright.”

Harry’s hand shakes a little bit as he writes down his name and student ID number. “But I do want to.”

“You’re brave. Much braver than I was at your age.” Harry doesn’t quite know how to deal with Nick’s compliment.

“I have a lot of fliers – I don’t want to lose yours in among the ones about cows.” He has acquired a vegetarian society flier – he doesn’t know how.

Nick laughs – maybe he’s laughing with Harry.

“Tell you what, how about you give me the fliers you don’t want and I’ll put them in my rubbish bag down here. And then you can keep ours and it won’t get confused. Then come to the second floor of this building Thursday night at 6pm for our first meeting.”

“Thanks” Harry does just that. He has to leave now.

“Bye Harry – lovely to meet you. See you Thursday.” Nick calls after him.

Harry’s back outside. He doesn’t want to acquire more fliers. He leans against a tree and listens to the cars. He’s done it.

_20 September 1984_

Harry almost doesn’t go to the meeting.

He has an amazing class that afternoon – his first proper photography class. They aren’t taking photos with film just yet. But they’d talked about composition and frame and focus. The tutor suggests they spend the next few days sketching and looking through their lens and focusing and sketching some more. It had been the most exciting hour of Harry’s life.

Afterwards he goes outside and looks at all the angles on the buildings and wants to take photographs of everything. Without film in his camera he practices composition – drawing what he wants things to look like, focusing on a scrubby tree, and a wall. He likes looking at things through his camera.

He keeps wandering – the shadows get longer and the frames more interesting.

He looks at his watch when he finally realises the shadows might mean something. It’s quarter to six. For a moment, he thinks about going home.

No, he isn’t going to do that. Next week could become next term and he is going to go to the Lesbian and Gay Soc meeting now. He didn’t leave home just to take pictures.

He runs back to the union, proud that he doesn’t get lost. He gets there with five minutes to spare, so he ducks into the toilets to fix up his hair and calm down a little. Then he heads up to the second floor. One foot in front of the other, that’s how you get anywhere and that is how Harry is going to get into that room.

It looks like an ordinary room with an ordinary group of students. But when Harry sits down (near the back a little bit in – not drawing attention to himself) he starts to see differences. The men all look different. The women look different too, but the men –  

Harry concentrates on breathing.

Nick, the one Harry made an idiot of himself in front of, and a woman whose hair is shaved on one half of her head are sitting up the front.

After what feels like ages, but is probably only ten minutes, Nick stands up.

“Hello and welcome. We welcome everyone here, gays and lesbians and supporters. Although, if we’re going to be honest, in previous years most of the supporters were gay by Christmas. I’m Nick Grimshaw and I’m the president of our society. Usually we start with a mixer and some drinks and I don’t have to talk at all. But this year we have a couple of important announcements. I went to a National Union of Students gay and lesbian meeting over summer. And I learned about the American disease called AIDS. There’ll be a proper workshop about that later in the term.”

Someone shouts out, “Don’t fuck Americans!”

“Yes, but more importantly wear condoms. I have a leaflet here and no man is leaving this meeting without one and some condoms from this massive box.” Nick picks up a really big box and puts it on the table. “At every meeting – take one, take many, take a handful. The box will be replenished. There will always be more condoms.”

That’s a lot of sex. An exciting amount of sex. Probably enough sex for Harry to have some too.

“Also, whatever you have been using – Vaseline, butter, spit –” Everyone is laughing and Harry laughs too, even though he doesn’t know what’s going on. “You can’t use anything with oil in it with condoms. You need proper water based lubrication – such as the old favourite KY-Jelly. We have supplies of that as well. I don’t want to start off term on a scary note – but follow this advice. People are not scaremongering. This new disease is fatal.”

That is possibly the scariest thing Harry has heard in his life. He isn’t sure he can process it.

“Secondly, next week we will not be meeting as usual. The student union has organised miners to come and talk about the strike. We’ve got together with other clubs and socs who support the miners to host them. They’ll be speaking at a number of events in Manchester and they’ll be here a week today. So come along. Victory to the Miners.”

Other people murmur “Victory to the Miners.”.

Do people support the miners? Nobody in Holmes Chapel supports the miners. But apparently gay students in Manchester support the miners.

Afterwards beer appears. You have to buy a red sticker to get a beer. Harry doesn’t quite understand the system. But he is already on his second beer when someone tries to explain it to him. It’s something about not being able to have a social session in the union bar because it might put people off coming. Harry tries to figure out if it would put him off coming – not after the second beer it wouldn’t.

Harry doesn’t say much, just sits at the edge of conversations and drinks his beer and watches. The men are so beautiful. Harry tries not to stare, but there is a guy with an earring (there is another in very short shorts – but he really isn’t going to stare at him). Then Harry sees two guys, they can’t be much older than him. One is leaving and they have their arms around each other and he can’t stop staring. They kiss each other like it’s nothing. Harry has never seen two men kiss before.

Harry takes a deep breath and blinks rapidly. He needs to be together enough that they don’t kick him out for being weird.

“Hey Harry – who wants to be gay.”

Nick remembers his name and the dumb things he’d said. Harry sort of apologises and turns away – it’s all a bit much.

“No don’t – sorry I didn’t mean to tease. I may be terribly old, but I remember what it’s like and I think you’re pretty amazing coming here in the first week.” Maybe Harry can do a conversation.

“What are you studying?” Nick asks.

“Art – photography – I can’t draw, but I love taking photos. I almost missed the meeting, because I’d started practicing.”

Nick tells Harry that he’s glad that he didn’t miss the meeting and they keep on talking. Nick is funny and asks him things and doesn’t seem nearly as scary as when he’d been talking as president. He introduces Harry to some of the other people and it’s easier than Harry thought to be here, to talk to people. Easier in some ways than being in class. Nick even invites him to come to the pub with them on Friday night.

*

 

_20 September 1984_

Louis and Stan walk into the Miners’ Welfare on their way back from picketing.  They sit with the lads – most of whom have a bowl of something. Louis’ll wait till he gets home.

They’d had a good day. Louis is telling all about how he tricked the, when he hears his name.

“Louis.” It’s Paul, from the committee. “Next week, rather than going on the picket line and messing round with coppers, how about you come on our trip to Manchester to talk to the students?”

“What? Why?” He’s never done a speech to anyone – and stuck-up students will think he’s thick.

“They asked for someone young. And every time I see you you’ve got your mouth open. Seems like the best choice.”

Louis turns to the lads he’s sitting with – hoping one of them’ll volunteer.

“I’m sure there will be heaps of rich students in Manchester who’ll buy you a pint and give you some smokes.” Jack says.

“Yeah and I’ve heard some of those student girls are right slags for miners. Solidarity like.” Stan says. “I’m driving you lot down there. I’m looking forward to it.”

Beer and cigarettes sounds good. There hasn’t been much beer, cigarettes or any Manchester in Louis’ life recently – and he misses them. Manchester in particular.

“I’ll have to check at home – if Mum is working afternoons either me or Dad need to get home for the girls.”

Some of the lads jeer at that. “Do you need to get your Mummy’s permission before you go on the picket line too?”

“Because of Mum’s job, our whole family’s taken nothing from the union. So that money can go to your stupid fucking brothers.” Pete – the lad who’d been hassling him – has even more brothers than Louis has sisters. “So fuck off.’

He better go – the twins will probably be home by now.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow, right? I’m off home for my sisters. I’ll try not to let that turn me into a woman.” He leaves, satisfied that that shut them up.

The twins are back when Louis gets home, the big girls are always much later. Lottie works at the hairdressers after school and on weekends. Fizzy’s only just started big school, but is taking it very seriously.

He makes the twins some bread and butter. They watch cartoons. Louis joins them when Dungeons and Dragons comes on (he’s developed definite opinions about after school cartoons since the strike). Lottie comes home just as Blue Peter is starting.

“Louis,” Lottie calls out from the kitchen, where she’s sorting out tea, “I talked to Lou about an apprenticeship today. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to take one on until the strike is over.”

Louis feels a long conversation coming on. Mum has said over and over again that they’re not leaving school early. Now Lottie is talking about getting another job, if she can’t get an apprenticeship. She seems to think she can get around both Mum and the council. Louis tells her not to be daft.

After they put the twins to bed, Louis decides to have a nap on the sofa. He wants to talk to Mum, but she isn’t getting back until after eleven and he has early picketing tomorrow.

He wakes up when he hears her come in.

“Lou, were you asleep? I didn’t want to wake you.”

He gets up and gives her a hug. “Nah Mum, I was on the sofa because I wanted to see you.”

They talk a bit about the girls and her work – there were three new babies today. Two of the women’s husbands are on strike. Mum is going to see if she can keep them in a few extra days to make things easier for everyone. He tells her that Lottie had tried to enlist him in the cause of letting her leave school. And even though he’d had his own campaign at her age, he hadn’t encouraged her.

“But she said, maybe you’re right. Maybe she shouldn’t do an apprenticeship. She could probably get more money elsewhere and we need it.” He looks at Mum, surely that wouldn’t work?

Mum sighs, “You told her no? You reassured her? We’re better off than most with the money I earn at the hospital. She is not to think of throwing her whole future away because of the strike.”  

“Don’t worry Mum – I told her. I think it’s just a ploy to get you to agree to the apprenticeship anyway.”

She gets the plate Lottie had left her and Louis makes them both cups of tea.

“Do you know when your Dad’ll be back?” She asks.

“No news about the late picketing, sorry.” Louis often doesn’t see Dad for days at a time. Ever since Mum started picking up extra shifts, Louis and Dad have picketed at opposite ends of the day, so Mum can always take any work going.

“When are you working next week? I’ve been asked to go to Manchester, but I’ll stay here if you’re working afternoons again, so I can be round for the girls.”

Louis tries not to make it clear how much he wants to go.

“To Manchester – you’re not picketing there are you?” Jay looks at him over her cup of tea – what is she asking?

“No, they want me to speak. The polytechnic and university want younger speakers and someone said I had a big mouth.”

“I’m glad they asked you – you go and tell those university kids what’s what. You speak really well – people should listen to you.” She says.

“Mum!” She’s embarrassing. “But, really, what shift are you working?”

“I’m mornings next week – you go. Lottie and Fizzy are big girls – if your Dad’s picketing mornings they can take care of the twins. I’m glad to get you away from the picketing. I don’t want you getting hurt or arrested.”

They’ve had this conversation every week since the strike started and Louis knows they’ll keep having it. “Don’t worry Mum – I run fast.” He doesn’t feel good about running faster than everyone else, but he’s glad to reassure Mum.

“You know I don’t want you not to be fighting. You need a job, your Dad needs a job, and all the little boys who go to school with Phoebe and Daisy will need jobs too. I just wish you didn’t have to fight.”

They talk a little more and then head to bed. Louis isn’t even able to be nervous about speaking – he can worry about that later – he is so excited about going to Manchester for the first time since the strike began.

26 September 1984

Stan picks Louis up before the girls have left for school. They have to get to Manchester in time for a church meeting at ten. They are speaking to a lot of people. There are a lot of student groups, there is a Labour Party youth event, there are two different churches, and a whole lot of other people as well. They are going to be there for a few days and are going to be put to work speaking morning, noon and night. The people who are organising the whole thing have found places for them to stay. That shouldn’t interfere with Louis’ plans.

“But...” Louis doesn’t quite know how to ask. “What do I say?”

“What do you say? You’ve always got plenty to say lad – why would you stop now?” Paul replies. That’s different – that’s with people he knows – not a whole bunch of students. Clever students who won’t want to hear from someone who couldn’t even have failed O-levels because he didn’t take them.

In the end it’s Sam, from the women’s group, who gives him some useful advice. She tells him that she’d been nervous too, but people actually do want to know about the strike and about their lives. She also talks to Paul and gets Louis scheduled off from speaking today.

The rest of the drive down to Manchester is spent talking about the deputies. Whatever else, no deputy at Yorkshire Main is going to cross the picket line. People swap gossip about who is giving to the strike fund and when the deputies are going to vote.

At each of the meetings, Louis watches Sam and can see what she means about people liking her being personal. He doesn’t know if he can do that, but he’ll try.

Before the last meeting of the day begins, Louis asks Paul if it’d be alright for him to slip out to meet a mate after the speakers have finished. He has to reassure Paul that he has somewhere to stay and promise to be on time tomorrow morning.

On his way out, he nips into the toilets and fixes his hair. He has a couple of tops that he only ever wears in Manchester, but he couldn’t bring them on this trip. He looks alright. He’ll do alright.

He doesn’t know Manchester well, but he knows how to get to Canal Street.

When he sees the canal, he can’t help but smile. He’s here. It’s been a long time. He doesn’t feel like going to a bar tonight. Getting someone to buy him a drink is a whole extra step..

He’s not at the park long before a man catches his eye. He’s older – middle-class, but _Guardian_ reader middle-class. Why not?

“Blow job,” the guy says – and he’s asking not offering, but Louis doesn’t mind. He doesn’t get many opportunities to touch other men’s cocks. He isn’t going to turn one down. If things go well maybe he can get the guy to take him home.

Afterwards the guy gets out his wallet – Louis wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m not a prostitute.” He says, but fuck it why not? “I’m a miner.”

“Oh – well….” The guy stutters a bit and then gets an extra note out. Louis had read him right. “Give this to the relief, or get food with it, or something.”

“Thanks,” Louis smiles at him. He’ll take it.

“Is it hard? Being gay in Yorkshire?”

Louis doesn’t really know how to answer that, “I’m not gay in Yorkshire. I’m only gay in Manchester.”

He doesn’t want to go home with the _Guardian_ reader now. He is full of shit. It isn’t easy to be gay in Manchester either. But he’ll give ten pounds to Mum and the rest to the committee.

He finds a proper posh guy – who definitely does not support the miners – but who doesn’t ask Louis questions. It’s a pretty good night.

Louis leaves the posh man’s flat early; he has the address where Stan has been billeted and he has to find his way there in order to be taken to a morning tea at a church.

By the time, they get there he is starving, so he’s relieved that the church people put on a good spread. He is less happy when Paul tells him that tonight’s meeting at the polytechnic has been moved from a meeting room to the union hall. There is a lot of interest.

The scone is dry in his mouth after that. He does his best to be friendly to the church ladies and not to swear. He doesn’t seem to fuck anything up. The church provides lunch, as well as morning tea. Religion has its definite advantages.

That afternoon and evening they’re at the Manchester Polytechnic. First is an informal discussion with the student Young Labour branches. They want to know what they can do. Lots of Labour branches have been good – even if Kinnock can get fucked.

When the discussion finishes, the students offer to take them to the bar for a drink. Louis feels that maybe he should bow out and work on what he’s going to say. But that would mean thinking about the fact that he is going to have to speak in front of hundreds of people, so he chooses drinking.

A young Irish guy gives him a pint and says: “So tell me more about the deputies.” He turns out to be both knowledgeable and generous, although Louis decides to stop after two drinks, because being drunk would probably only make the public speaking more nightmarish. Niall promises him another one after he’s spoken.

“The way I see it – you have to win. If that bitch knows she can beat the miners – then they can do anything and we’re all fucked. It’s why I’ve been pushing that we do everything we can within our branch.” Niall is Louis’ type of mate. With his beer and his support and his ability to distract Louis from his impending humiliation.

Unfortunately, far sooner than he’d like, Niall says they had better go over to the union hall to set up.

Louis cannot do this. He absolutely cannot do this. His two beers have not been enough. Could he get someone to buy him shots? He’s not sure that ‘support the miners – buy me spirits so I can feel better, but do a terrible job of public speaking’ really has a ring to it.

It’s quarter to six. In quarter of an hour he’ll have to sit on stage and then he’ll have to say stuff – in front of all these people. More and more people are coming all the time.

Nipping off to the loo is the only solution.

*

The door opens while Harry is washing his hands. There’s a gorgeous man in the mirror. Harry looks down. Staring at random men in toilets is a terrible idea.

He turns off the taps and walks straight into the man, who is staring at the mirror rather than going to the urinals.

“Oops.” The man is even prettier now Harry can look at him properly. He has beautiful eyelashes.

The man smiles, which definitely doesn’t help, “Hi.”

“Sorry I bumped into you. Are you here for the Miners?” That seems like a safer conversation topic than the man’s eyelashes, or eyes, or hair, or face generally.

“I am the miners. Or one of them. I’m supposed to be speaking tonight, but I’m really nervous. I’ve never spoken in front of people before. I’m going to be terrible.”

“You won’t be terrible – you’ll be brilliant.” The man has a beautiful Yorkshire accent and surely no matter what he says people will be happy to listen.

“You know that do you, from the dozen words I’ve said to you?” The man is smiling at him, almost teasing. Harry likes it.

“What were you going to say?” Harry asks. “Practice on me.”

“I was going to say hi and that my name is Louis Tomlinson and that I’m from Edlington, a pit village near Doncaster.”

Harry can feel himself grinning at Louis Tomlinson from Edlington, a pit village near Doncaster.

“That sounds like a good start. As long as it’s true.” Harry says.

“It’s true – my name is Louis Tomlinson. Then I want to talk about what it’d be like in Edlington if the mines close. But I’m worried everyone is going to think I’m thick. All you student types.”

Harry knows Louis isn’t thick, knows it already. Louis sparkles like the stars, but Harry can’t say that.

“I come from Cheshire – I just started here. I was at this club and everyone was saying ‘Victory to the Miners.’ And I didn’t even know that people did support the miners. I mean, I don’t think people do in Holmes Chapel. But here everyone does. I think I do too, but I don’t really know why. I’m the thick one, if I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“You listen to what I say – I’ll make sure you know. What’s your club?”

Harry swallows. Why not? If he is going to tell anyone outside the Lesbian and Gay Soc he is gay – why not make it a pretty miner who he’ll never seen again.

“The Lesbian and Gay Society. We usually meet tonight. But we cancelled our meeting so we can hear you. I will listen to everything you say.”

Louis grins – he actually looks happy – “The lesbians and gays support us?”

Harry nods.

“Alright – you’ve persuaded me I can do this. Thanks.”

Harry watches Louis leave the bathroom. He looks just as beautiful from behind.

Louis turns around – “Although know this. Everything I say – I’m speaking just to you.” And he winks.

Did Harry just get chatted up? Did Harry get chatted up by a miner? Are there gay miners? That seems like a stupid question. Harry has just met a gay miner who chatted him up. He’s also the prettiest man Harry has ever seen and Harry is desperate to snog him. Snog him and more.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he washes his hands again. It’s alright. The pretty miner likes him and now he is going to go and listen to him speak. Although he isn’t sure he is going to be able to concentrate enough to understand why he should support the miners.

Now that phrase feels almost dirty.

Harry walks back to the table where Nick is and reclaims his beer. Beer is a very good idea. He drinks it all.

“What happened to you in the loos that you need beer so desperately?” Nick teases him.

“Um – I ran into one of the miners and he was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and I think he flirted with me. And I want to flirt with him some more. Like lots more. I really fancy him” Harry might not have said all of that if he hadn’t just downed his beer.

“Wow! A miner. That’s solidarity, that is, Harry.”

Nick keeps on talking, but right now Harry can’t really listen. Because Louis is sitting on stage with the other speakers and that requires all of his attention.

Things happen after that. People stand up and speak. There are times to clap and times to boo and it’s quite easy to tell which is which. Someone speaks from the student union and a miner speaks, but Harry doesn’t pay much attention. He focuses on Louis.

Then Louis stands up – is he going to speak?

The man who has just finished says: “You’ve heard enough of us old ones talking – so now we’ve got someone a little more your age. Louis Tomlinson, like me, is from Yorkshire Main Colliery.”

“Uh – Hi. My name is Louis Tomlinson and I’m here today to talk a bit about my life.”

Harry can tell Louis is nervous. He wants the audience to be nice to him, appreciate him.

“I never thought about going to a place like this. Maybe that’s because I’m thicker than you. At least that’s what the school seemed to think. I left school when I was 16 – I’m quite nervous at speaking in front of all you people who are cleverer than me. I’m scared you won’t want to listen to me.”

The audience is appreciative; Harry can tell they like Louis – he hopes Louis can tell that.

“I’m from Edlington, which is a pit village near Doncaster. The village is built around the pit. At the moment everyone goes to work at the pit. If they close the pit that’s a whole village out of work.

“It’s not just about the lads, my sister wants to be a hairdresser, she’s been working at a hairdresser after school since she was 12. The lady there, she wants to take my sister on as an apprentice. But no-one can afford a haircut now because of the strike. If the pit closed it would be so much worse. Who lives in a pit village when there’s no pit? The shops would close and the hairdressers. My sister would be stuck same as me.

“Thatcher’s closing perfectly good pits, because she hates miners.”

The audience cheer at that. Harry cheers with them.

“My Dad’s a miner, so was my Grandad and my Great Grandad. They’ve worked in their mines their whole life. When I left school – told I wasn’t good enough to stay – I thought it would be alright, I could get a job at the mine. And it’s alright – it’s not great. I can see why you come here and learn things – rather than going down the mine.

“But it’s a job and it’s a job that you can have a decent life on. My Dad works down the mine and I’ve got four sisters – the youngest two are twins. But they can go on school trips and we have a colour telly. Neither my Dad or me may have much education, but our family can still get by.

“I think it’s great that you’re here – that you’re learning new things and learning how to do things. I hope you all get good jobs. But nobody should have to come here to have a good job – one where you can provide for your kids.

“My Dad, and all the other miners, fought hard to get what we have. It’s not like the Coal Board, or the coal owners before that were just ‘I know we’ll make sure the mines are safe and everyone has enough to live on.’ People fought and died for both those things.

“Thatcher’s threatening to close the mines – she says 20 mines that’s 20,000 lads like me or men like my father out of a job. And that’s just the start. If she closes the mines what happens to me? I’m 20. I was told I was too thick to study. Too thick to come here and learn things like you are. But they said it was alright – because there was a job down the mine. What happens to me if the mines close?

“I’m scared. I’m scared of being out of a job and considered useless at twenty. I’m scared for me – no job at 20 – and I’m scared for my Dad – no job at 42 with four kids still at school.

“And you should be scared too. I know the jobs you’re hoping to get are good jobs, but so was mining. If they do this to me – to us – they can do it to you too.

“Please support us. Don’t let them throw me on the scrap heap.”

The audience clap – some people cheer. Of course they clap – Louis Tomlinson the miner is amazing and has totally taken Harry’s breath away.

There are quite a few more speakers. One guy is excellent – explaining why there’s a strike – what Thatcher is doing. Harry is  still getting his head around how gays and people at art school talk about Thatcher.

But mostly he thinks about what Louis said – Louis who spoke so well. Louis who is scared. He is definitely on Louis’ side against Thatcher – or anybody else.

People cheer a lot and a bucket goes around several times. Each time Harry puts a little more money in it – thinking of Louis.

There is a resolution at the end of the meeting and Harry says ‘aye’, which is the right thing to say.

After the meeting ends, a few people leave, but most don’t. Harry pretends to listen to Nick and the other Lesbian and Gay Soc people talk. Instead he is mostly watching Louis. Everyone wants to talk to Louis and congratulate him on his speech. Harry wants to go up to Louis, but doesn’t know if that would be alright.

When Harry pays enough attention to figure out what is going on, Nick and Cara are talking about Nick’s undying love for a musician who he’d met at a party once and who Cara says is way too famous for him. Eventually the conversation is broken up by that Irish boy; Harry recognises him from the Clubs and Socs day.

“I don’t know about you lot, but what I got from tonight is that we have to do more.” Nick and Cara seem to know the Irish guy. Harry doesn’t have any more useful knowledge for this conversation than the previous one about the musician he’s never heard of. But he enjoys pretending he is part of it.

Then he hears Louis’ name. The Irish guy had promised Louis a drink and is going to buy him one. Niall introduces Nick and Cara, then Louis interrupts. “And this is the lovely young man who told me I wasn’t total rubbish just before I spoke, but I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Harry. And I was right wasn’t I? You were brilliant.” He looks directly at Louis; his eyes are so beautiful.

“You know why people support the miners now?” Making eye contact with Louis feels even more intense than when they’d talked earlier.

“Yes.” It comes out weird and strangled. Harry wants to be cooler. “Because everyone should have a good job. And because if they can do it to miners, they can do it to anyone. Even photographers.”

“Are you a photographer Harry?” Louis reaches for a box of cigarettes on the table. He briefly looks away from Harry and makes eye contact with Nick – who gives him a nod that he should help himself. Then Louis takes a cigarette and lights it.

“I want to be. That’s what I’m studying.”

Louis asks some more questions about Harry’s course and his photos. Harry asks Louis about being on strike.

Louis tells Harry all about the previous groups he’s talked to in Manchester. He describes the food that the church people had given them this morning.

“Talking of, I haven’t had my tea and it’s well past my tea-time. Is there anywhere to get food this time of night?”

Harry is just going to say that the bar’s chips were cheap and good, before he realises that that would be the stupidest thing he could possibly say. “I can take you somewhere that’ll be open.”

“Brilliant” Louis replies, getting up, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

Harry can see that Nick is looking at him with barely contained glee. “Very impressive Harry. Smooth and in solidarity. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” Cara laughs, she’s probably thinking about Nick’s musician.

“It’s not – he’s not – I don’t even know if he’s gay.”

“Oh hun. I know. Have a great night – and don’t fuck without a condom.” Harry can feel himself blush. Louis comes back, wearing a jean jacket, as if everything is normal.

They turn left out of the union building. Harry remembers that he is supposed to be the one who knows where he’s going.

“Um, I have to tell you something. I don’t actually know where we can get food from. I’ve only been in Manchester less than two weeks.” He sounds idiotic.

Louis laughs. “Then why did you say you did?”

“I wanted to wander the streets with you.” Harry can’t believe he that.

Louis reaches out and grabs Harry’s hand and gives it a squeeze. He lets go, but then he says, “I’m glad, I want that too. I think I know Manchester well enough to find us chips.”

They get fish and chips and eat them in a park. Harry crumples up his chip paper and takes Louis’ as well.  While looking for a rubbish bin, Harry realises that there is a canal right at the end of the park.

“Is this Canal Street?” Harry asks, when he gets back to Louis.

“Just over there is Canal Street.” Louis points at the road that runs along the other side of the canal. “Have you never been?”

“I’ve been to a pub that is on Canal Street with the Lesbian and Gay Society, but I didn’t look at the actual street much.” Harry says.

“Now you’re here with me.” Louis takes Harry’s hand. They walk across the canal and now Harry is actually here, on Canal Street.

“Will you kiss me?” There is surely a better way to be gay. A better way to get a man to kiss you. But Harry doesn’t know what it is and he isn’t sure, still, if Louis wants to kiss him – or boys. How are you supposed to tell?

Louis stops. Harry holds his breath – he doesn’t think Louis would hit him – but that would be acceptable. That is what you are supposed to do when someone suggests you’re gay.

But that isn’t what happens. Louis turns and faces Harry and leans forward and they are kissing and it’s nothing like the girls Harry kissed at school. It’s much better than he ever dreamed of. Louis backs himself up against the brick wall and here Harry is, kissing a boy and pushing him against the wall on Canal Street. It’s very gay.

“I was so scared you were going to be angry at me. I thought – I hoped – but I don’t know how you’re supposed to tell.” Harry isn’t doing a very good job at talking. Louis is still backed against the wall – the feel of their chests touching is amazing.

“Well – I think if you tell a boy that you’re from the Lesbian and Gay Society. And then you ditch an event to walk around the city together. And then you end up on Canal Street. And when you ask him to kiss you he does. Then you can be pretty sure.” Louis kisses him again – just briefly. “All the men I’ve met around here have been quite willing to do whatever I asked.”

“You’ve been here before?” Harry doesn’t know why he assumed that Louis hadn’t. Louis is a grown up with a job who speaks in front of people – of course he knows how to be gay.

Louis laughs “Not much recently. With the strike, I didn’t have an excuse to come to Manchester and kiss pretty boys.” And he kisses Harry.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” There is a certain romanticism about snogging on Canal St, but also a bed would be comfy and he is sure that Louis’ back is getting damp.

“Where do you live? Are you alright bringing me home?” Harry kind of wants to take Louis to his room and keep him there.

“I’m staying in a hall. No one will... it’ll be alright. We just need to sneak in. I’d like you to come. And your back must be cold.”

Louis looks at him with that smile, “Take me home beautiful,” and reaches out and grabs his hand. They walk like that, holding hands all the way back to Harry’s hall. They let go before they head inside. Just to be careful.

“Want some tea? Or some cocoa. I make pretty nice cocoa.” Harry wishes he could offer Louis something more dramatic than cocoa, to show how excited and happy he is feeling.

“Cocoa would be brilliant.”

They drink their cocoa and Harry doesn’t know how to get the conversation started again. Or if it’s conversation he wants to start.

Louis turns to him, “What do you want, love?”

That is a big terrifying question of which there are many answers and also just one. Louis, he wants Louis. He doesn’t know how to say that.

“I just – you seem like maybe you haven’t been with a boy before. I only want to do things you’re comfortable with.”

Harry isn’t sure what he wants – but it feels amazing to be told that it’s alright. “Was that what it was like for you?”

“Not like this – there was no cocoa involved.”

Harry feels silly and childish. Cocoa is the world’s least sexy drink. He shouldn’t have offered Louis cocoa. He should have sexier drinks in his room. Something with alcohol in it. Something that is grown up and manly and gay.

Louis pokes him, he must have noticed that Harry is freaking out. “I really like the cocoa – if that’s why you’ve gone all quiet. My first time was about three years ago on Canal St, not far from where we kissed. One weekend I told Mum I was going to go to London to see a band and went to Manchester instead. I looked at a map in a W.H Smith in the train station and I realised Canal St was right nearby. I bought some cheap vodka from an off-licence and drank quite a lot of it to get brave enough to go there.”

Louis is so grown up and brave. Manchester is closer to Holmes Chapel than it is to Doncaster. It had never occurred to Harry to come here and find some gay people until he moved. And he only kissed someone tonight. But he kind of wishes Louis hadn’t had to – he sounds alone.

“Don’t feel sorry for me!” Harry feels exposed. Louis keeps noticing what he’s feeling and thinking. “I really wanted it – I wanted it so bad. But it was scary as well. It’s scary doing new things and I was in a new place. It was alright, my first time itself. But I think I would have liked it if it didn’t have to be like that. So tell me what you want and we can do it.”

Louis’ offer feels overwhelming to Harry. He has a beautiful boy on his bed and some cocoa and he doesn’t know what he wants, but he doesn’t want nothing. He puts his mug down on his bedside table. He wants to take Louis’ mug out of his hands. But that seems a bit rude if he isn’t finished yet and much too suave a move for Harry to try.

He just says “Can we kiss some more?”

Louis grins at him and it’s just so beautiful. “I’d love to kiss some more, Harry.”

Harry does take the cup out of Louis’ hands then and straddles him and starts kissing. Louis tastes of cocoa and cigarettes and it’s the best thing Harry has ever tasted. He can feel everywhere Louis’ body is touching his. Their lips, their tongues, his hands on Louis’ shoulders, Louis’ legs under Harry’s bum.

Occasionally half thoughts flitter through his head – ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ or ‘you’re doing it wrong’. But then Louis moves, or Harry does, and all the thoughts disappear.

He realises that he can feel Louis’ cock and it’s hard. He stops, “Is this alright? Do you want to do more?”

“This is glorious.” Louis replies. “Remember when you were at school and you spent a lot of time snogging? I did that with girls and so it wasn’t – I didn’t actually like it that much. And when I came to Manchester – everyone got straight to the point. I thought I’d miss out on kissing. I thought that was for normal people. I adore kissing you.”

Harry doesn’t want to do anything more – not tonight. He hasn’t even read that leaflet Nick gave him, because it’s too scary. And he likes kissing. Louis.

They kiss till Harry’s lips hurt.

“You alright? Was that what you wanted? I can kip with you right?” Louis asks many questions, while also cupping Harry’s face with his hand, which makes it difficult to answer any of them.

“Yes, of course. To – um – to all of it. Do you want something to sleep in?” Their bodies are going to touch all night.

He gives Louis his dressing gown and an old t-shirt and directs him to the bathroom. Then they swap. When he comes back Louis is in his bed.

“Come here then.” His bed is small.

Harry gets in and they lie side by side. Louis puts his arms ‘round him and he can feel Louis’ chest against his back.

“Are you alright love?” Louis’ voice is soft against his ear. “This has all been amazing for me.”

“Yes. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Harry feels like he is going to cry, so he concentrates on all the places his body is touching Louis’.

“Thank you – you’re so beautiful and lovely and sexy.” To hear Louis say that is almost so perfect it hurts. Harry closes his eyes and lets himself feel Louis and luxuriate in his words.

*

Louis wakes slowly and each moment is better than the last. He is in Harry’s bed, with his body all entangled with Harry’s. He’s never really experienced this before. He’s woken up in other men’s beds. He’d done it yesterday. But every other time he wanted to leave, couldn’t get out fast enough (although sometimes that might involve a blow-job or two on the way). Today he just wants to linger here with Harry. To hold him and feel him breathing until he wakes up. And then to do whatever Harry wants. To tell him again how fantastic he is.

According to Harry’s clock, there’s hours before Louis has to be himself again. He can spend a little bit more time here, being someone who gets to wake up next to another man.

Even though he thought he’d be content to hold a sleeping Harry in his arms for hours, as soon as Harry starts stirring, Louis decides to assist and kisses his neck. An awake Harry will be even better than a sleeping one.

When Harry properly wakes up he turns and faces Louis.

“Was that an alright way to wake up?” Louis asks. Louis brings his hand up to Harry’s cheek, his fingers touching those beautiful curls.

“It’s the best,” Harry still looks so sleepy and beautiful and there is no point in resisting him anymore. Louis leans down and kisses him. He can taste all last night on Harry’s mouth and Louis probably tastes the same, but he doesn’t care. He pushes Harry onto his back and really kisses him. He can feel Harry sink into. Harry is getting hard and so is he. They have nowhere to be. No rush. Just feeling Harry’s body underneath his – making sure he is enjoying it. Louis wants Harry to feel beautiful and brilliant. And slow, morning kissing seems like a starting point.

Imagine living like this. Being with someone like this. Louis only lets himself think about it for a moment. It’s too much – and anyway, he has a Harry to pay attention to.

“I have to go talk at the University of Manchester today. I’m glad they sent us to the Polytechnic first, because the University is going to be even posher and even scarier. We’ve got a meeting at twelve, some more meetings in the afternoon, and a meeting at six, and I’m supposed to talk to all of them.”

“You’ll be brilliant.” Louis is in the bed of a beautiful, clever student who is cheering him on. He has never imagined something like this.

“You could go to your art school stuff and afterwards you could come to the meeting. I think it’s open to everyone. And maybe....” Louis trails off then. That is brave enough for one day.

His courage is rewarded with a smile from Harry. They make their plans.

“Do you know where you’re going in Manchester University?”

“They said if we got separated then meet at the Union building. They said that pointedly at us single ones. As if we’re all going to pick up birds and go home with them. I don’t think they imagined this. But you’re much better than any lass.”

Harry doesn’t know where the union building is, but he takes Louis along to the University. They talk about their families. Which is calming, and calming is necessary, because with every step they take Louis’ stomach goes on its own sort of strike. Sure the polytechnic had been fine. But they were mostly quite ordinary people. They weren’t super stuck up. What if he says something not proper in front of the snobby students and they all judge him?

“Are you alright?” Harry notices.

“I’m just a bit scared. Last night went alright, but I have to talk in front of people again today. And what if I’m rubbish?” The sun is out in Manchester and Louis is walking the streets with a lovely boy who notices when his stomach attacks him for no reason (or possibly worse, for very good reasons).

Harry actually stops. “What are you talking about? You were brilliant last night. Everything you said made so much sense and you sort of shimmered, you were so great.”

“But not everyone there is going to fancy me.” Louis lets himself tease Harry a little bit, take him for granted, allow that he likes him. It feels strange and new.

“Don’t be daft, they’ll all fancy you by the time you’re done.” Harry teases him back

“If I get nervous, I’m just going to tell myself that Harry thinks I’m great and Harry is right about everything.” Louis says.

“I am.” Harry shimmers too in that beautiful sunshine.

The first meeting isn’t that scary, although it’s a bit confusing. The Manchester University miners support group had asked them to talk. But the meeting is tense – and there is clearly some kind of argument going on. Louis knows who Socialist Workers are and can identify when people are arguing because of mad inter-left nonsense, not for any real reason. But he doesn’t quite know what to do about it. Everyone seems to appreciate what he says. Or at least everyone is too busy slagging off each other to judge him.

Then there are two afternoon meetings, not one. First there’s a communist group of some kind or another. This is their regular meeting time and they’d decided to talk about the strike. They all call each other comrade and speak in very full sentences.

The afternoon ends with another Young Labour group. The blonde Irish lad he recognises from the last meeting is there. They’re planning a big collecting push going around student pubs on a Friday night.

“The key is,” the blonde lad says, “to go out when everyone is drunk enough to be generous, but it’s early enough that they still have some money.” After some discussion, it’s decided to try starting out at 7.30 and see how they go.

“Talking of, let’s move to the bar and buy these guys a pint, so they’re prepared for the meeting tonight.”

The blonde lad with the great ideas is called Niall. Louis tries to get Niall to explain why there had been three meetings – given that everyone at the second two had attended the first one.

Niall laughs “Sorry about that, you see…” And then launches into a long explanation that involves Neil Kinnock, Trotsky, a previous trip some students had taken to Barnsley, someone shagging someone else’s bird and a fist fight. But Louis doesn’t mind because half-way through the story Niall gets him another pint.

“And what’s this last meeting?”

“This is the big one.” Louis takes it all back, Niall is a terrible person. “These meetings were for activists, people already involved with the cause, well mostly. This last meeting has been advertised since before term began. We’re hoping to get a big crowd, including lots of people who are just curious about the strike.” Niall then tells another long story about the Student Union, and a motion that is hopefully going to be passed, and the Tory party, and money that could be given. All of which came down to: Louis will ruin everything if he isn’t good. Louis wishes he could send a distress signal up that Harry would see and Harry would come rescue him from all this and they’d stay in Harry’s room for the rest of their lives.

“I saw you yesterday – you were great – you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Niall probably isn’t just saying that because he fancies Louis. Although you never know.

Niall takes Louis up to the union hall to show him round. It’s kind and generous and Louis can’t say, “No I’d rather not. I’m waiting for a boy who is my good luck charm and who I also want to kiss.”

Niall takes Louis to a dressing room and distracts him by chatting about football. Niall supports Derby, which is nonsense.

At five to six they are told that the hall has filled up nicely.

Louis would not say the hall has filled up nicely. There are far too many people here and at least three quarters of them need to leave. But he has to sit here, on stage, with the lights and the people staring at him, and listen to the speeches.

Louis doesn’t hear what anyone else says, he is so nervous about speaking in front of hundreds and hundreds of people. Why is he the last speaker? Why hadn’t he realised that being the last speaker meant sitting here, with all his nerves while everyone else spoke? Everything goes faster and slower than it should.

Is there any way he can get off the stage without giving a speech? A trap door – some stages have those don’t they? But then he sees curly hair and a beautiful smile. Harry has made his way to the front. Louis is sure he wasn’t there before. He’s come special to see Louis. Louis can’t disappear down a trap door, even if he finds one. And it all feels a bit less impossible now.

Louis starts his speech with what he’s afraid of – of never having a job again. The audience laughs when he talks about them thinking he is thick. As if it’s a joke, as if they’d never possibly think that.

He is just getting going when a man and a woman dressed all in black and posh, get up and start shouting.

“Miners are supported by taxpayers. They’re taking money from all your pockets.”

“Get back to work – lazy.”

“Peasants!”

The last is yelled as the man is dragged out.

“I know I didn’t go to a fancy university like you lot. But I do know in a medieval society peasants did all the work, while the nobles were sitting around doing nothing. So either we’re peasants or we’re sucking blood off the taxpayer. It can’t be both.” Louis says to the man’s retreating back.

The audience really laugh then – they are on his side.

“And, once the strike is over, I’ll take them down the pit for a day and see who is lazy then.”

It goes so well, the rest of his speech. For the first time he doesn’t feel that different from these students (except the posh ones who had shouted things). They’ll need jobs one day soon – and if it gets bad for miners, it’ll be bad for everyone else. He feels people responding to what he says. He doesn’t look at Harry, but he knows he is there.

At the end, everyone claps and the room feels alive. Then the student union president gets up again and proposes a motion. It passes, by lots. And Louis can see the buckets go around and hear the money going in them.

He’s done something. He’s done something good. He hasn’t felt this way since the beginning of the strike when they’d been getting other pits out.

Suddenly the woman who proposed the motion is tapping on the microphone.

“I have an important announcement about the strike.” The room hums with energy, but everyone goes quiet. “NACODS – the union of deputies have voted to go out on strike – 81 per cent voted in favour. They’ll go on strike all over the country. Including the pits where scab miners are currently producing coal. It’s a huge victory to the miners.”

And the crowd responds, “Victory to the Miners!”

It’s happened. It has really happened. Sam is right there and they grab each other in a hug. Everyone is cheering. Stan comes on the stage and the look in his eyes – Louis hasn’t seen that for a long time.

In that moment, Louis knows they are going to win.

Afterwards there is a buzz of people wanting to talk to him. Someone buys him a drink and two men, who are obviously trying to sound less posh than they are, try to get him to take their side in an argument about Poland. They seem to see him not as Louis Tomlinson, but as an authentic voice of the working class.

A couple of girls come up – clearly trying to chat him up. He makes eye contact with Harry then and grins. They don’t know and it feels like a delicious powerful secret in that moment. When he is successful and Harry is there.

It’s a whirlwind of joy and drinks and new people.

Finally, finally, finally he gets away from everyone and is able to go and see Harry, who is talking to Niall (who Louis definitely loves and has forgotten whatever sin he’d committed earlier in the evening) and another of his friends that Louis remembers from last night.

“Hello! I have been trying to come over all night. But earnest young communists wanted me to decide about Poland. I’ve decided it can continue to exist, but they must all go on strike straight away. This is my friend Stan from the pits. This is Harry who is excellent and Niall who I decided I hated for not letting me get more alcohol earlier, but I’ve forgiven him.”

“I was going to get you another drink, but I don’t think you need one.” Niall is really very nice – well Harry is right there and the absolute best, but Niall is decent.

“Harry needs you to explain NACODs to him.” Harry’s friend says.

Harry looks put out and hits his friend on the arm – like he’s trying to keep what he doesn’t know a secret.

“Were you being mean to him by telling me that, man whose name I have forgotten? Don’t feel bad Harold about what you don’t know. You, Niall and many other people have told me that I’m very good at saying things – so I’ll say it now. Stan’ll help.”

“NACODS are the deputies – like the supervisors. They’re not part of our union, because they’re in charge, but they have their own union and they used to be miners. They’re not on strike, but they can’t work, because the mines are closed.”

“Nice work if you can get it.” says Niall.

“But now there are Scabs.”

Stan chimes in “Fucking scabs.”

“Now there are fucking scabs going into the pits like ours. The coal board ordered the supervisors back to work. Crossing a picket line.”

He looks at Harry, but that doesn’t seem to be making much of an impression.

“I think you’ll have to explain more,” says Harry’s friend. “He’s only just left Cheshire.”

“Right, so if you come from Doncaster – even if you get a supervisor position – if someone is on strike, you’re not going to cross the picket line. It’s like a rule: respect your mother, don’t hit a woman, don’t cross a picket line.”

Niall is nodding along, but Harry doesn’t seem to get it.

“So you know how not all of the mines are on strike?” He asks Harry. What do people in Cheshire know?

“Yes, because of there not being a national ballot.” Stan actually hisses at that. Niall grabs his wallet and heads towards the bar.

“Well that’s not the reason.” They do think some ridiculous shit in Cheshire.

“They’re not out because they’re fucking scabs and they’ve been fucking scabs since 1926.” Stan says. Which while true, probably doesn’t make any sense to Harry.

“Just forget what they tell you. That’s all lies.” Louis can see that Stan has much more to say, so he starts talking more quickly. “Anyway the only reason that we haven’t won the strike already is because those areas – “

“Fucking Notts” says Stan.

“Yeah – like the fuckers in Nottingham – are still working. But if the supervisors go out on strike all the pits in the country will close, including the ones that are working now. The government’s stuffed then. There’ll be power cuts. They need coal. They’ll have to give in.”

Harry still looks a little bit confused, but Louis decides to explain anything else later.

“We’re going to win Haz. We’re going to win, because the deputies will go on strike and all the mines will close. And we’re also going to win because I gave a brilliant speech and ensured that we got all the money.”

“Look at you. Your head won’t even fit in the van. We’ll have to tie you on top to get you home.” Stan’s bubbling with happiness, just like Louis.

Niall comes back with more drinks. Louis doesn’t take one – he already feels like he is flying.

They talk more about the strike and NACODs and what it means. Harry doesn’t seem to join in. Louis puts his hand on Harry’s thigh and squeezes gently. Just to let Harry know that he is thinking of him. The electricity in Louis’ body hums faster the moment he touches Harry. To be here, with his hand on Harry’s thigh, after giving a speech, when they are going to win the strike. There aren’t many stars to be seen in Manchester, but he feels like he is one of them.

Harry’s friend, who’s called Nick – goes to get another round. As he gets up, Stan leans in to Louis and says: “I think – it seems like – you go with that curly haired boy. Go and enjoy tonight. I’ll tell everyone you found yourself a bird. You don’t have to do any speaking tomorrow. It’s all at an old church. Meet back here at midday and you’ll be fine.”

All the joy and energy Louis is feeling kind of pauses and comes into focus.

“You…” Louis doesn’t know what to say.

“Don’t be daft, get going.” Louis does.

He whispers to Harry “Meet me round the front in two minutes.” He suddenly realises how reckless he’s been. This may be Manchester, but there are people from home here, and not just Stan.

*

Harry can barely wait until Louis is out of sight before he sculls his beer and puts his camera in his backpack. Nick winks at him as he leaves. Louis still wants to see him, even after he’s said entirely the wrong thing. For a moment, he thought he’d known something. All night it has been things he doesn’t know – who Steve Biko is and why he has a building named after him, everything about the strike, everything about being gay. And then there was one thing he knew and so he said it. And that ruined everything. He’s been biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t cry ever since. Even Louis putting his hand on Harry’s thigh hadn’t helped much. The moment of contact had been amazing, but after that Harry’s mind had gone back to how stupid he’d been.

When he steps outside, the cool air breaks his train of thought. He breathes in. Louis has asked to meet him here after all.

He sees Louis leaning against the wall just next to the entrance. Louis brings a cigarette to his mouth. His profile is beautiful. Harry wants to take his photo.

Instead he walks up and says, “Hi.”

“Hello lovely.” Louis takes Harry’s hand. Harry can feel Louis’ touch spreading throughout his body.

They cross the road and walk down the lane alongside the church opposite. When they are a bit away from the hubbub of the road Louis stops. He backs Harry against the wall, looks at him with such intensity Harry’s knees almost buckle. Then Louis kisses him.

Harry is beginning to associate the taste of cigarette smoke with joy and arousal.

“Thank you for coming. I was going to run away before we were supposed to speak. But when I looked down and saw you I knew I could do it.” He kisses Harry again, briefly and gently.

“I’m sorry I said the wrong thing to your friend.” Why bring it up? Why remind Louis how many better people there are back in that room? People who know more about Nottingham.

“No, no, no, love.” Louis kisses him after each ‘no’. “You don’t know. That’s alright. You think some daft things because you grew up in Cheshire. That’s alright. You can say anything you like to me. Even if it’s a bit stupid.”

Harry lets Louis’ kisses sink in alongside his words. Louis means both of them.

“Can I ask a silly question?” Harry doesn’t know which of his questions about the strike are wrong.

“Course, love.”

“On the news, they always talk about miners transferring to other pits. If they closed your pit – couldn’t you do that?” Harry tenses up; he doesn’t want to make Louis angry at him.

“Maybe, for a while. But they want to put twenty thousand people out of work. There aren’t twenty thousand jobs in other mines. They transferred people to Cortonwood, that’s the pit that sparked the whole strike, and then weeks later they announced they’re closing Cortonwood. If they win they’ll keep closing pits and going for transfers will be the world’s most miserable game of musical chairs.”

Harry wouldn’t want that either. “Thanks for answering my stupid question.”

“You can ask me anything you want love, promise.”

Harry asks Louis some more questions and he really begins to understand. The miners will win the strike if the government runs out of coal. Some mines are still producing coal and that makes everything so much harder. If these managers go out on strike as well, all the mines will stop making coal.

Louis seems happy to talk about the strike, but he never makes Harry feel stupid or wrong for what he doesn’t know.

Louis pauses next to a kids’ playground, all empty and dark.

“Hey Harry – could we go on the swings?” Harry says yes. He wants to fly with Louis.

Louis runs to the swings and gets there well before Harry. He is still dancing from the energy of his success. Harry gets to share Louis’ joy. The metal chain in his hand, the slight dampness from the seat, the wind whistling round him as he gets higher and higher. Pumping his legs just like he used to.

“Bet I can go higher than you” Louis shouts at him.

“Cannot” is the only reasonable response to that. They swing and swing and never can tell who is highest and then they start giggling and rapidly lose altitude.

“Come here,” Louis says. He twists the swings together so they can kiss. Louis’ lips are cold and rough from the wind.

It’s a strange place to be kissing a boy, in a children’s playground at night.

“When did you know?” Louis asks him.

“I didn’t really know ‘til last year.” Harry tries to figure out how to say it. “I went with a girl when I was 15 or 16 and I liked the romance of it all. I wrote her poetry and I lit candles. I was excited by the idea of love. I focused on that. I think I sort of knew, but I just didn’t… it seemed easier. Then at school I did English for A-Levels and we studied plays. And something about the way people talked about Oscar Wilde just felt different from everything else. I read this book. It was fiction but it was pretending to be from Oscar Wilde’s point of view. And everything just made a kind of sense that it hadn’t made before.” Harry remembers that moment. It was late at night and he stopped fighting the images of men that had been intruding into his thoughts for so long. Let them exist and be in his brain. It was so exhilarating and so scary.

Louis pulls him closer and their swings get even more entangled.

“And you came here? Even after only knowing a year ago – and joined that group? You’re so brave. Using the word gay and being Harry and gay in this big city all the time, not hiding one part from another.”

Louis thinks Harry is brave? Tears come to Harry’s eyes for the second time that night, but he doesn’t bite his cheek, just blinks a little.

“It was the beginning of summer last year, that I read that book. I kind of spent that whole summer trying to figure stuff out. Mum was wondering why I’d watch _Are You Being Served_ with her. One day I was reading some newspaper article – and the person who wasn’t saying how terrible people like me were was from a university Lesbian and Gay Society. I’d already thought about photography and was learning to use my camera. I decided I wanted to study photography somewhere where there was a society of gays.” He is aware of every part of him that is touching Louis, and it’s that connection that means that he can say so much.

Louis laughs – so friendly and loving. “For me it was a TV report about the Manchester police cleaning up the dens of filth on Canal St and I thought – dens of filth that’s what I’m looking for. I’d just left school and got a job. I realised I could just catch a train and go to Canal Street. It mentioned Canal Street by name, as the filthy part of the city that needed to be cleaned up. It wasn’t San Francisco or even London – it was right there.” It’s an amazing story. Everything about Louis shines.

“When did you know?” Harry asks.

“I think I always knew. I didn’t really know what I knew, but I knew something. I always liked boys – and as I got older it became clear that I didn’t like women. I remember when I wasn’t very old there was some kind of debate on television about how terrible gays are. And I realised – that’s me – that’s what I am – I’m that terrible.”

Harry thinks those things too, of course he does. But hearing Louis say them crystallizes how wrong they are. He twists towards Louis and grabs his hand “Lou – you’re not.”

“I know now, or sort of. I think for the longest time I did believe it – that the problem was with me and me being wrong. Even after I started coming here. I felt like I was doing something wrong and bad and dirty. Then one weekend I was here and I hooked up with a guy who was very political and we kind of talked about it and he gave me leaflets. And I realised that it was like the miners. Lots of people say we’re scum, but we’re not. It’s all of that that’s wrong.” Louis waves his hand – encompassing all the terrible things in the world in one gesture.

“I read the leaflets on the way home. So much suddenly made sense in my head. I couldn’t keep them though. I threw them in the bin. I can still see one of them now – it was yellow and had ‘Gay Liberation’ on the front.” Harry nods and squeezes Louis’ hand.

“When I returned the book about Oscar Wilde, the librarian got all upset because it was only supposed to be leant to people who were over 18. She apologised to Mum. Mum just told me she was proud I was taking my course so seriously. But after that I felt like I couldn’t get out any of the books that might be... So I read them in the library, hiding them inside a book for school.”

They swing backwards and forwards, the chains of their swings are all tangled up and clink as they move.

“Did you just see him that once. The political one?” Harry asks.

“I haven’t seen him since.” Louis says. “I didn’t have any way of contacting him. It wasn’t him. It was his ideas. I wish I’d seen more of people like him – been a member of a group like yours. But that’s just for students not for miners.”

Harry can’t help but feel a little relieved. He could never compete with someone who has Gay Liberation leaflets.

“I wish you could have had a group too.” Harry says. “I’m so scared I’m making a fool of myself all the time and just doing the wrong thing, being gay wrong. Nick has been so nice.”

“Did you guys hook up?” Louis seems to pull Harry even closer as he asks that question.

“Nick? No – he’s in love with a musician who is apparently quite famous.” Harry giggles. He can’t tell if Nick really is heartbroken over this musician or just enjoys pretending it.

They talk more, about being gay and what that feels like. They keep circling away and coming back, like their swings.

“I’ve never had a conversation like this.” Louis says.

“Me either.”

“But – I thought – your club.”

“I only went to the first meeting last week. And they all know how to be gay. I mostly watch. I’ve never felt able to just say stuff, like I can with you.” Harry tries to explain to Louis how important tonight is for him.

“I know what you mean. The night before I met you, the first guy I hooked up with asked me if it was hard to be gay in Doncaster and it was like my life was a tragedy.”

“You hooked up with more than one guy the other night?” The certainty that Harry felt just a breath ago is gone. Is he expendable to Louis? Is this all just convenient? He isn’t sure he wants to be one of many to a star who shines so bright he’s already permanently burned his image on Harry’s vision.

“Yes.” The silence grows and grows. “Is that – do you think I was wrong?” Louis sounds upset. “Proof that people like us are gross?”

“Oh, God no.” But Harry is overwhelmed with emotions about himself and about Louis. “I wasn’t judging you.”

“I’m not -” Louis sounds defensive and Harry doesn’t know what to do about that. “Now you’re here, you have opportunities all the time. I hadn’t been to Manchester since before the strike…” Louis trails off.

“I wasn’t judging you. I’m just – I’ve never. I feel stupid and young.” That is near enough the truth and much safer than not wanting to be one of many.

“Oh Harry.” It had felt like Louis was about to stalk away, as if Harry had done him some real harm. Now all his attention is on Harry and he is gently stroking Harry’s arm.

“That’s great – it’s exciting. You can figure out what you like.”

“I’m scared….”

“Of sex?” Harry hadn’t known that that was what he was scared of, but Louis’ question helps make sense of what he is feeling. “Did you like kissing?”

“I loved it.” Harry is aware that his voice comes out all muffled and in awe. Louis rewards him with more kisses so what does he care?

When Louis stops, Harry tries to explain “I do want to do more. But the new disease – people die from having sex. And when I think about that disease everything that I’ve ever heard about gays and sex and how wrong it is gets muddled up again.”

“Are you sure it’s real? I thought it was just another thing they said about how gays are bad?” Louis sits up.

“I think it’s real. The very first meeting of the gay and lesbian society Nick talked about it. He’d gone to a special training for it along with other people from other gay and lesbian societies. I got a leaflet.” The leaflet might still be in his pocket.

“Oh – and you think that means they’re right – we are bad?”

“No!” The idea has been going round and round in his head since Nick had talked about the disease, but now that Louis suggests it might be true, Harry knows it’s wrong.

“That’s terrifying. I hadn’t really believed it was a thing. There’s so much rubbish in the papers.” Harry is going to find his leaflet and give it to Louis, so he’ll know more.

“I’d still like you to come back, if you want to. I’d like to be a little bit brave tonight, but not....” Harry is sure he is messing everything up. Here is a man who makes Harry’s skin sing with desire and who wants to come back home with him and Harry is talking of deadly diseases.

Louis draws their swings close together “You know what I’d like to do? I’d like to go back to your room and kiss some more, like we did last night. And then I’d like to take your cock in my mouth – only if you want to – but I’d like to take your cock in my mouth and feel you come.”

Harry is relieved he isn’t standing up. It’s hard enough to exist when Louis is talking like that, without having to worry about complicated concepts like gravity.

“I’d like that.” His mouth is moving, but that whimper that came out isn’t his voice.

Louis stands up and pulls Harry into a cuddle. “It’s alright to be scared. I’ll take care of you.” Harry wants to stay there forever, but he also wants to get back to his room.

They walk back, but differently from the way they had ambled here, with purpose.

As soon as the door is closed to Harry’s room, Louis kisses him. Soon they are snogging on the bed again.

Harry reaches out and puts his hands under Louis’ top. He hopes they aren’t too cold – he wants to feel more – to feel Louis’ skin.

“Good idea.” Louis says – and all of a sudden Harry has a topless man sitting on top of him and Louis grabs at Harry’s shirt and Harry is topless too.

Their chests touch. It’s warm and beautiful.

Louis leans back, which Harry doesn’t like, and asks “Would you like that blow job I promised earlier? You don’t have to.”

“I would like – yes.” Sometimes Harry can use words, but not now.

“Get your trousers off then” Louis stands up and pulls Harry up too. He undoes Harry’s fly and Harry takes a deep breath and pushes first his jeans and then his pants down. Here he is naked in front of a man, a beautiful, lovely man.

He still has his socks on. Louis is looking amazing with just his jeans on and Harry is wearing nothing but socks. He can feel himself blushing and almost trips over getting them off.

“You’re very sexy. Even just in your socks.”

Harry can’t stay standing after hearing something like that so he sits down on the bed.

Louis straddles him and starts kissing him again. Lips, tongue, Louis’ hand on his face – it feels so good. And his cock. When Louis leans forward his jean-clad bum rubs back against Harry’s cock. Everything feels new and overwhelming and brilliant.

And then Louis gets up again and kneels down. Louis has his mouth around Harry’s cock and it’s shattering. Harry closes his eyes. It’s just too much. It almost makes it worse that he can hear the sound of Louis’ lips. Harry’s making ridiculous noises himself, he knows he is. But how can he not?

He sits there feeling, listening. He recognises signs he’s going to come. But it just feels so different, so much more.

And the too muchness all focuses at once and he comes. He hears Louis splutter a bit and he’s sharply pulled out of what just happened. He probably shouldn’t have just come without letting Louis know. He remembers Nick describing a man who did that to him with tones of total outrage.

“I’m sorry! I should have said, or something. I just didn’t – it felt so different.” Harry says.

“Good blow-job etiquette says you tap the person giving you a blow job on the shoulder to let them know you’re about to come.” Louis kisses him again, which temporarily stops everything in Harry’s head. Then he smiles.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know. And I liked how overwhelmed you were. It was hot. Made me feel like I was good.”

“You were.” Harry remembers something else Nick had said and realises he is being terrible. “Can I -” He can’t think of words so he makes the vaguest gesture. “What do you want?”

“No need. I wanked myself off while I was doing you. Talking of bad sex etiquette I’ve got spunk on your carpet. Although I don’t think it’ll show.” It really won’t; the carpet is almost as busy as it’s old. “Do you have something I can wipe my hand on? So it isn’t all in the carpet.”

Harry jumps up and gets a towel and brings it over.

Now he is just standing around being awkward. What are you supposed to do after someone has given you a blow job and you’ve apologised for all the things you’ve done wrong?

Louis takes off his jeans and gets into bed. That seems like a good answer to Harry’s question. Louis snuggles in behind Harry and pulls him in tight. Everything about the night has been so magical. Being able to talk so freely, the sex, and now Louis is holding Harry.

“This is perfect Harry. Thank you so much” Louis whispers in his ear.

“Don’t thank me – it’s perfect for me too.”

Harry drifts off after that and his dreams aren’t that different from being awake. They are about Louis and being close to Louis.

*

Louis wakes up intermittently. He’s aware that it’s light. He’s aware first of Harry’s body up against his and then of an empty bed. But he doesn’t want to face the day.

When he manages to open his eyes, Harry is reading a book and making notes. It’s after ten.

Louis doesn’t want to go back. He wants to stay here in Manchester with Harry forever. He wants Harry to show him his photographs and for them to go to gay bars together. Or just to stay here, in Harry’s room.

He says, “I have to meet them back at the student union building at midday.”

“Where do they think you are?”

In the heady rush of last night he’d almost forgotten.

“Stan, he’s my best friend from back home, I guess he knows. He said that I should go and have fun with you and he’d tell everyone I was out with a girl.”

Harry sits next to him. Hugs him. “Are you alright?”

“I guess – he seemed – he didn’t hit me or anything. He was definitely trying to be supportive. I’ve just never imagined anyone back home knowing. Except in a bad and scary way. I don’t know what I’ll do.” Louis has to remind himself that NACODS have voted to go out. Otherwise he’ll never manage to leave Harry’s bed.

“Oh Lou – you’ll talk with your friend and be brave. I wish I could be as brave as you.”

Louis kisses Harry. Harry is far braver than he is anyway.

“Do you want me to walk you there? There’s a cafe that does good fry ups down the road. I’ll get yours.”

They don’t talk about the big and beautiful things they had talked about last night, but they enjoy their sausages, eggs and chips.

“Do you know your way there?” Harry asks.

Louis has to leave now. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Yeah – thank you.” They look at each other and hold eye contact for a moment and it’s more intense that Louis can bear.

“I better go.” And he walks out the door and down the street. Away from Harry and the odd, beautiful freedom of the weekend. He sticks his hand in a hedge. Feeling each of the tiny prickles – he likes the way the hedge springs back after him. The hedge ends – he keeps on walking. He will go to the university and from there he will go home.

“Louis! Wait!” Harry! Louis turns around and Harry is following him down the street.

“I took some pictures of you. I could send them to you if I had your address.”

Harry has caught up and is looking through his bag – he hands Louis a stubby pencil and an exercise book.

Louis carefully writes his name, leaning against the wall of the building next to the hedge. Does that zero look too much like a six? He crosses out the number and writes it again. That should be clear. He wants Harry’s photos to get to him.

“I’d like that. I’d really like to hear from you.”

“I won’t write anything...” Harry trails off.

“Write whatever you like – I’ll love it.”

Louis can walk away then. Harry has his address; he is going to send Louis pictures.

A few hours later, Louis is watching the grey sky and the hills creeping off into the mist. Louis had been ecstatic that Harry had wanted his address, but now the Pennines suit his mood. He’d sat in the back corner of the van to make sure Stan, who is driving, couldn’t talk to him. He doesn’t want to talk he just wants to look at the view and let the landscape transform him back to the person he had been when he came the other way.

The van drives on and home gets nearer. Louis falls asleep. He wakes when the car stops to drop Sam off. Louis realises that Stan’s going to his last.

When Louis is the only person left in the van, Stan says: “Are you coming to sit up the front here with me or not?”

“I’d rather not.” Louis replies, but he hops in anyway.

Stan pulls out and there is a strange silence between them. After he turns right, Stan asks Louis, “So you like lads?”

“I – yes – I guess. I mean I do. I have for a while.” Louis looks straight out in front of him, the doziness of a few minutes back gone.

“Alright.” Louis doesn’t know what he’s expecting from Stan, but it isn’t that. “Harry seems like a good lad. He came along to support us. And you heard about those queers in London who are getting money and giving it to a valley in South Wales. It’s so silly to insist that there’s something wrong with those people, when those people will fight Her along with us.”

Louis doesn’t want to cry. Him being a sissy won’t help right now.

“None of my lot know.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Stan pulls in outside Louis’ house.

“You were amazing this week Louis. You really were.”

“Thanks Stan.” What more can he say than that? “I promise I haven’t – I think you’re great, but as a mate.”

“Well I’m not nearly as pretty as your posh student boyfriend.” Stan is right about that.

“You dream of being as pretty as Harry.”

Louis says goodbye and takes his backpack into the house.

He’s immediately jumped on by both Daisy and Phoebe who are delighted to see him and want to know if he’s brought them presents. He’d grabbed some strike badges from the support groups. Before the strike the twins had always been starting new collections – but collections of normal kid things. Now they want as many strike badges as possible.

None of their friends have Manchester support group badges. He is glad. He knows Mum will be glad.

Fizzy wants to know how Sam had been – Fizzy’d started going along to the women’s meetings a few months ago and if the strike goes on much longer she’s going to be running it. Louis gives her all the leaflets from the big night at Manchester University. “Here’s how the students see us, love.”

Then Mum comes in. “I’ve just got off the phone with Clodagh and her Paul said that you were fantastic. He said you carried the students at Manchester – they passed a very supportive motion and you got heaps of money. Apparently they’re organising other trips to Leeds and York and they’d be daft not to take you.”

“Mum!” She is proper embarrassing, asking people about him.

“I didn’t ask. She just told me. And,” she gives him a hug, “I’m allowed to be proud of you.”

There isn’t much Louis can say to that, so he hugs her back.

There are so many reasons that he left Manchester, really good reasons.

Later he gives Mum the ten quid from the bloke who felt sorry for him. The other half he’d put in one of the buckets. He tells her that a little old lady in one of the churches had come up to him and made him promise that he’d give this money to his mother. She wouldn’t want him to lie to church ladies. She takes it eventually.

*

_2 October 1984_

Harry runs into Niall in the union building. He is sitting on a stall that says ‘Support the Miners’. Harry does or would like to. He’d like to support miners and a miner.

“You fancy coming along to our Miners Support Group meetings Tuesday nights?” Niall asks, as Harry gives him two quid and quite a few of the smaller coins in his wallet.

“What time? I have a workshop that often goes quite late.” Harry doesn’t know if he could handle any more meetings. The Lesbian and Gay Soc meeting is scary enough, even if everyone is lovely.

“That’s a shame – what are you doing Saturday morning? We’re collecting then down the Co-Op and could use another person to rattle a bucket.”

Sleeping, Harry will be sleeping on Saturday morning. Probably dreaming of supporting a miner. But he can’t tell Niall that.

“I could maybe – I’d like to help.” And Harry has somehow committed himself to getting up before nine on a Saturday. He’ll tell Louis about it in his letter. Louis better be impressed.

Harry buys a soft pencil and some more pens. He had been planning on buying a Mars bar to get him through the afternoon, but he better not. He is already down two quid.

He’s meeting Nick for lunch, but Harry’s early so he’ll get a start on his assignment. He’s supposed to look at eight different prints he’s made of the same negative and talk about them. He’s using a picture of Louis speaking, looking as if he is going to lead a revolution. Using Louis’ picture is probably a mistake. He is supposed to be writing about choices and exposure and instead there are eight pictures of Louis in front of him. Pictures of Louis that had been exposed for a long time, pictures of Louis that hadn’t been exposed very long at all. All he can think of is synonyms for how beautiful Louis’ face looks and how strong he is. Harry tells himself to focus – to look at the photographs.

He shouldn’t have chosen Louis’ face.

Nick turns up for lunch twenty minutes late. Harry rather suspects twenty minutes late is early for Nick. Harry rushes to put the many pictures of Louis away, not wanting to embarrass himself more than he always does around Nick.

“It’s for an assignment.”

“I bet it is.” Nick replies.

Nick seems to think the best way to make up for teasing Harry is to talk about his own crush. Apparently Nick snogged a singer called Morrisey from a Manchester band backstage at a gig a year ago, but now he has a successful album and Nick is never going to see him again. This melds quite seamlessly into the story of the fine man Nick had taken home the other night.

“I just want you to know that I’m not… I like you and I think you’re great, but I’m not hitting on you. I’m not making my way through the freshers. Though it seems like, even if I was interested I wouldn’t have a chance with your miner writing you letters.”

Harry sort of tries to object. But he’s far too pleased to hear the phrase ‘your miner’ to get in properly.

They talk about music – Nick thinks Harry has terrible taste and is more than willing to solve that problem. He’ll lend Harry some records and Harry needs to start with the band of the guy who is unfortunately not Nick’s boyfriend.

Harry doesn’t just feel like Nick’s project though – he listens to what Harry has to say about art.

They talk and talk and talk about art, music and gayness. It isn’t the electricity of the conversations he had with Louis, but Harry is so glad to have it. He feels much less alone. Suddenly, it’s five o’clock and Harry should get home. He hasn’t finished writing about the many pictures of Louis. Nick persuades him to get a pie and chips and come to the Rem. He says Harry can finish after. It’s a good plan, but Harry knows that neither Nick or him really believe the finishing after will ever happen.

Harry is right. He doesn’t get any work done that night. But he does work hard over the next week. On Thursday, he has to present options for his project to his tutor. He spends the week taking, choosing and developing photographs. He has a voice in his head telling him how terrible his photos are, that he is hopeless at developing, that everyone else takes better photos than he does. He tries to keep going despite that voice.

_11 October 1984_

The class is reasonably informal and everyone has their photographs in front of them. Harry has two he’d taken of the union building from odd angles, two of kitchen implements close up so they look strange, his favourite photo of Louis and the photo of Niall collecting.

His tutor looks at the buildings first. He says that he likes them; he approves of the light and shadow. He tells Harry he can work on that – they are good. He also really likes the kitchen implements. He suggests Harry plays with over-exposure.

“I think abstract photography might be your thing.” His tutor says, picking up the photo of Louis. “This is a little cliché – Che Guevara. The striking miner as beautiful hero. There’s no contrast here, no tension. You might find that you’re better at photographing things than people.”

It isn’t that Harry wasn’t expecting that. Last night he had convinced himself that the tutor was going to tear everything up and tell him he was the worst photographer ever. But he hadn’t expected how awful it felt to have Louis’ picture singled out as his worst, the worst. He doesn’t hear any of the tutor’s technical comments about these photographs. If there is anything he needs to know he misses it.

The tutor says something about the miner and it sounds dismissive.

“His name’s Louis.” Harry says. He wishes he’d stayed silent.

“Oh, you know him? I wouldn’t have thought that from the picture.”

Harry manages to hold it together for the rest of the session. But as soon as he gets into his room he just starts crying and crying and crying. He steals some loo roll to mop his eyes up and then cries some more.

He is terrible at photos. Terrible.

And he is terrible at Louis. He has taken terrible photos of Louis.

He gets out Louis’ letters. Louis had said, “You made me look so strong – I don’t know if that’s really true, but it’s nice to be seen like that.” He reads the sentence, and the letter, again and again.

He remembers his tutors’ words and cries some more.

He eventually falls asleep in his clothes.

He feels disgusting the next morning. Almost as if he is hungover. Crying because you are terrible at everything that matters is much less fun than being drunk.

He writes a letter to Louis. He doesn’t write about what happened. He’s too embarrassed. Says it’s an extra letter, because there’d been a sale on stickers and he wants Phoebe and Daisy to have them. He’ll buy the stickers when he goes out to post the letter.

When he checks his pigeon-hole, there’s a letter from Louis. It’s warm and funny and perfect. And it almost makes him feel better. But he doesn’t take any photos of people that day.

That night he goes to the Rem. It turns out to be an excellent decision for someone who wants to be distracted from his own failure, because someone had tried to blow up Margaret Thatcher that morning.

Harry didn’t even know until he got to the pub. He’d clearly got through the day in a haze of self-pity, because he’d neither seen nor heard a newspaper headline about it.

He’s greeted by a rousing chorus from Nick and his friends, who apparently celebrate assassination attempts of Tory leaders vigorously. Nick buys him a beer and a shot of something as soon as he arrives.

People are cheering ‘to the miners’ and ‘to Ireland’ and ‘to the queers’. Harry can’t wait to write to Louis and tell him about this. People are probably celebrating in Doncaster tonight as well. Harry isn’t sure he is quite comfortable with the celebrations. People had died. Even if they were Tory bastards (as Nick had said earlier).

One of Nick’s friends who is also called Harry makes everyone shut up and says, “It’s all very well and good, but the bastard missed.”

Other Harry’s boyfriend gives him a kiss and says, “But tonight we’re going to pretend and celebrate as if he didn’t.”

There’s a couple in the corner and they are full on snogging. Harry is trying not to stare, but they’re exquisite. It feels so different from when he’d watched people at the Lesbian and Gay Soc meeting at the beginning of term. Then, men kissing had felt scary, exhilarating and unfamiliar. Now Harry just feels jealous. He knows what that feels like and he wants it back.

“Ridiculous politics, but dead sexy. Anyway, I was thinking we should invite him here and see what we could do?”

Nick’s question is apparently directed at Harry.

“Harry! Do you ever listen to me?” Nick waves his hand in front of Harry’s face.

“Sometimes?” It isn’t Harry’s fault that the couple in the corner makes him think of Louis.

“Well to explain again: Mark Ashton is coming to Manchester and he’s started this group – Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners – and we should do the same. Alright the bomb didn’t kill Thatcher – all the more reason for us to fight her.”

What a great idea.

“I knew you’d perk up as soon as we talked about mining. Now the only problem is, could we get a miner to talk alongside Mark Ashton. Anyone know any? Harry?”

Harry really wants to tell Nick to fuck off, but he wants Louis to come to Manchester more, far, far more.

“I could ask Louis. I have his address.”

“I know you have his address Harry, you mention it every time you send him a letter or he replies.”

Harry doesn’t mention Louis even half as often as he writes him letters, but telling Nick that probably won’t help his case.

They start talking logistics then – a lot of it’s over Harry’s head. He thinks about Louis and absent-mindedly joins in the cheering every time someone remembers Thatcher nearly died.

*

_15 October 1984_

Louis gets back from picketing mid-afternoon. There is a letter from Harry on the hall table. He can hopefully read it, maybe reply, before the twins get back. He still has lots of stamps.

To go to Manchester and talk to lesbians and gays – Louis is quite overwhelmed at the thought. And then what? He doesn’t necessarily want everyone down the Miners’ Welfare thinking and talking about gays.

He isn’t going to be able to write before the girls get back, it’ll have to wait for tonight. But he knows he’s going to say ‘yes’ and ‘please’.

It’s hard to focus on anything that afternoon. He could have gone out and found Stan when Fizzy got back, but instead he hangs out with the twins. He thinks about watching a Panorama special about the strike that was on that night, but decides it would just make him angry. So, he has a nap instead.

Since he’s had a rest, he decides to stay up to talk to Mum. He is picketing early tomorrow, but not early, early. He writes to Harry. He writes a reply where he tries not to sound too excited, too anything. But he throws that away. He writes a new letter and tells Harry how amazing it would be and how scared he is.

That musician Nick has a crush on said that the only problem with the bombing was that the guy missed, so all the older guys in the union are asking who he is. Louis tells Harry to tell Nick that he has great taste in musicians.

He puts the letter in his pocket. He’ll post it tomorrow.

When his Mum gets back, he can tell it’s been a hard shift. It takes her a while to shake her day off, then she asks about him. He doesn’t mean to tell her about maybe going back to Manchester. He’d decided not to, but it comes out anyway. He says that a student group asked him. It makes her happy, which is why he would always have told her.

Picketing the next morning isn’t made any easier by waiting up for Mum to get home from work, nor by the fact it’s getting colder by the day.

That afternoon, Louis stops off back at the Miners’ Welfare.

He gives Fizzy a hug, “What are you doing here?” Both Fizzy and Lottie are a bit involved in the women’s group; apparently women includes girls. Mum says she has too much on her plate – so her daughters update.

“We’re planning for the visit from the Greenham Common women. I’m helping organise it. One of them’s staying with us.”

“What’s Mum think of that? Aren’t they all hippy vegetarians?”

“Officially she’s very supportive and we’re having macaroni cheese. I think possibly she’s afraid I’m going to run away to live with them.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Finish your O-levels first, love. You know Mum’s excited about having a child who could possibly do sixth form.”

“I’ve learned more from being part of the women’s group than I ever did from Mrs Thomson.” That’s almost certainly true. Mrs Thomson teaches geography and is horrible.

“I’m sure you’ll learn lots from these Greenham Common women – they’ll teach you delicious recipes for bean sprouts.”

Fizzy almost laughs at his joke and then goes off to do whatever needs to be done to get those women up here. He wonders if they’re all dykes like people say.

He sees that Sam’s husband has an open pack of cigarettes and at the Miners’ Welfare that’s basically asking for trouble. So, he cadges one and goes outside to smoke it.

It’ll be alright, even if his sister is bringing lesbians home to eat macaroni cheese and he is going to Manchester to talk to gays. All these people support the strike. No-one will assume it means anything. He takes another deep breath of smoke.

“Can I have a drag?” Stan is either desperate for a smoke or has come out to find him. The first option can’t be eliminated, but the second is more likely.

“You alright?” Stan asks as he passes the fag back.

“You know that group of London gays that help the Welsh lot? People who heard me speak in Manchester want me to go back so they can start a similar group. Also Fizzy has got Mum to invite a vegetarian dyke from Greenham Common home.”

Louis slowly breathes out smoke and tries to breathe in air just as slowly. He throws the end of the fag on the ground and stamps it out.

“You should go. You’ll be good. Like I know they say horrible things about poofs in the paper. But I don’t believe the paper like I used to. It’s a bit different now.”

That isn’t what Louis wants Stan to say. He wants Stan to say that Louis is being silly and that all this talk of gays doesn’t mean that people will suspect. Stan is saying something much scarier.

“Thanks Stan. I’m going to go run it by the committee.”

Nothing is agreed to, because there is a chance of another speaking tour, but no-one objects.

Louis says ‘a uni group’ – he didn’t mean to. He had meant to talk about the London group supporting Wales. But the words don’t come. A uni group is easier.

Once it’s dark he goes coal picking with Stan. A couple of bags each is better than nothing and it feels good to work together again.

Afterwards, as they are walking home Louis makes himself say, “I just want to say thanks.”

“What for?” It’s too dark to tell if Stan is playing dense or being dense, and Louis wishes he would stop.

“For not being a shithead, I guess.” That’s specific enough.

“Lou – Jesus. I know I’ve probably said some stuff.”

He had. Louis remembers everything Stan has said about gays over the last five years. He’s been replaying some of it in his head.

“But that was dumb. You’re a good friend and how can anyone care about the fact you suck cock when we’re carrying coal home to cold houses because no-one’s worked for six months?”

“Thanks,” There isn’t much more Louis can say.

Louis quietly lets himself into the house. Mum is worried about picking coal. Being arrested isn’t the worst thing that can happen to coal pickers. So, he sneaks and she’ll pretend that she hasn’t noticed the coal is lasting longer than it should (he is fairly sure he isn’t the only family member who goes through the same charade).

_24 October 1984_

Louis is sitting on the train to Manchester. Last thing he heard before he got on the train was that the deputies have given in. He tries not to remember the joy he’d felt in Manchester learning that they were going out. What is he going to say? As well as the main meeting tomorrow night, he’s talking to both the university and the polytechnic support group. Just ra-ra you’re doing good keep going, gizzus some money type speeches. But things feel so bleak right now.

Harry said that he’ll meet him. Harry’d rung, he’d heard Harry’s voice again. He’d never expected to. Harry is helping set up a Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners group. Louis hasn’t said the name out loud yet. It’s a bit much for him to even think about. But the train is taking him to lesbians and gays and to Harry.

He drums his fingers on the window ledge.

He hadn’t written again after Harry had called. It had seemed so different to write to Harry knowing he was going to see him again. To write to him as a person in Louis’ world. He’s said so many things in letters that he thought he’d never say to anyone. And to see him…

He gets off the train and there is Harry again, just as beautiful as Louis remembered. Louis wants to push him against the wall and snog him in the train station.

Instead they just say hello and Harry asks if he’s had lunch. Mum had made him sandwiches that he ate on the train. He says so and immediately regrets it. Now he won’t be able to have lunch with Harry.

Harry asks when Louis is speaking and tells Louis that he has class this afternoon. Louis will have to go to the Manchester Polytechnic meeting without him. He wants to ask Harry to come and skip his class.

He doesn’t. Harry walks him to the union building. Louis explains about the deputies going back. He doesn’t know if he does a good job.

Louis talks alright at the polytechnic meeting, people seemed to like what he said.

Afterwards Niall buys him a pint. He even buys Louis another pint after Louis spends most of the first one holding him responsible for his countryman’s inability to aim bombs properly, and a third when they start talking about the deputies.

Harry arrives, much later than he said he would. His class ran long.

“The London people have come up already and everyone’s having a drink in the Rem, do you want to go?”

“The Rem?” Harry seems so much more confident that he had just a few weeks ago. When all Louis has done is picket and make afternoon tea for his sisters.

“Yeah – the Rembrandt on Canal Street.”

“I know where it is.” He smiles at Harry. “I’m just glad to hear you’re getting familiar with it.”

“Oh it’s not like that – it’s…” Harry doesn’t finish what it’s like.

Louis wants to suggest that they get tea first. He is hungry and he wanted some time with Harry, but he can’t afford to buy his own tea and it seems rude to demand that Harry buy him something. Hopefully there’ll be some food at the Rem.

They don’t really talk on their way. Louis keeps trying to think of something to say, but then they are on Canal Street.

Louis has been to the Rem a couple of times before, when he was feeling exceptionally brave. It feels so different, and just as scary to be walking in to meet a group of people with such a beautiful boy. Luckily he doesn’t need bravery because Harry opens the door and there they are.

Harry walks purposefully towards a very large group sitting down the back. Louis is going to join them.

There is a flurry of introductions – apparently most people know Louis from when he’d spoken. Nick – the one Harry had mentioned in his letters, the proper gay man who knows stuff about being gay – introduces him to the men from London: Mark Ashton and Mike Jackson

Harry sits down at a different part of the table and starts talking to Nick. Louis wishes Harry was beside him right now

Louis’ eyes come back to Mark. Mark is wearing a bright pink t-shirt and his hair sticks up beautifully. Louis can tell that he had been holding the attention of all the men at their table, and a good number of other men as well.

“Nice to meet you Louis. Can I get you a drink? I make a principle of buying a drink for every striking miner, particularly the pretty ones.” Louis has heard the expression of solidarity before, so almost tunes it out and then he realises Mark is flirting with him.

“Then you should get me two drinks. A lager and a shot – you choose.” He makes eye contact with Mark and winks. The shot is mostly to calm his nerves in this proper gay environment of people who, while maybe not as posh as he is afraid of, are posher than him. Louis hopes Mark will hurry.

After the shot things get easier. Mark is holding court, but asks Louis a lot of questions. Harry seems to be busy talking to Nick.

Mark gets out a packet of cigarettes – that will definitely help

“I could really go a fag, love?” He asks Mark.

Mark grins “Would you now – well I’d be happy to help you out.” He passes Louis a fag and reaches across the table and lights it for him.

The cigarette is just as good as the shot. He doesn’t need to talk, he can smoke and drink. Someone puts more drinks in front of him and that helps too.

Time gets a bit fuzzy, but later he stands up and immediately sits back down again. “I’m drunk.” That doesn’t make any sense. “I haven’t had that many drinks and I’m drunk.”

He isn’t sure how people are reacting to him, but he doesn’t think he likes it. Suddenly he realises what happened.

“It’s all Thatcher’s fault.” He explains.

“The fact that you’re drunk is Thatcher’s fault?” The Nick one asks him.

“I’ve been on strike for so long. No money for beer. If I hadn’t been on strike I wouldn’t have got so drunk. Thatcher’s fault.” Everyone is laughing, but it makes perfect sense.

Later most people are gone and there seems to be a conversation going on that is maybe about him, but he can’t tell.

“I don’t fancy trying to sneak him in.” That’s Harry. He likes Harry.

After that he is with the Nick one outside.

“Why am I with the Nick one? I want Harry.” Louis stops walking. Should he sit down?

“God help me from young idiots and their fucking feelings.” That isn’t an answer to Louis’ question, but maybe he has sat down, because Nick is trying to pull him up.

Things get clearer at Nick’s. Or what he assumes is Nick’s. There is a poster of Thatcher and a nuclear bomb and that man from the US on the wall.

“Take her away. I thought I was going to see Harry tonight, and now she’s staring at me. After getting me drunk.”

“I’ll take her down. You take these pills and drink this water.”

Nick asks him other questions. Stupid questions about what he is doing tomorrow.

The next morning, Nick pokes Louis awake, which isn’t fair. But as Louis is talking at Manchester University in a couple of hours, and Nick provides tea and toast, he doesn’t feel he can complain.

“Thanks for putting us up. Sorry about the messiness last night. It really was Thatcher’s fault. I’m usually not such a cheap drunk.” Louis is glad for the cup of tea he is holding in his hands.

“That’s a spectacularly good excuse for being drunk. I’m going to try it sometime.” Nick doesn’t seem too put out.

He wants to ask Nick about Harry. He wants to find Harry today. He’d expected to wake up next to Harry this morning. But he doesn’t know what to say.

Instead he gets instructions on how to get to Manchester Uni from here.

Louis isn’t as nervous as he might have been about the Manchester University meeting. He is relieved that they take him out to a late lunch and he turns down all offers of alcohol (although he does take a fag). He needs to stay sober tonight. Not just for the meeting, but so Harry won’t think he is too much work and dump him on Nick again.

After the students leave, he has some time before tonight’s meeting and doesn’t know what to do. He wants to go see Harry. Could he find Harry’s again?

He decides not to try, but to go early to where the meeting is. Nick had given him directions. It’s some sort of community centre.

Nick is there too – he’s come early to get the key. Louis apologises again for being a drunken mess and they talk quite a lot. Louis is sort of jealous of Harry having a friend like Nick. But he doesn’t feel jealous of Nick anymore. How can he be when Nick spends fifteen minutes talking about his desperate crush on the guy from the Smiths?

Harry arrives and sits down with them.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you today. And I’m really nervous about tonight.” Louis wants to touch Harry, like he remembers doing so shamelessly.

Harry smiles a bit, but doesn’t say anything.

Nick starts talking about how Harry needs to take photographs. For some reason, Harry doesn’t want to.

“You’ve got to take photos Harry. You’re proper brilliant at photography.” Louis sticks his oar in. Harry agrees after that.

Then there’s stuff to do – chairs to put out and tables to set up. Harry sorts out his camera and when Mark and Mike come in he goes to talk to them.

Much more quickly than Louis would like, it’s time for the meeting. It isn’t huge. There’s only about twenty people. Louis doesn’t know if more people would have made it harder or easier.

Mark speaks first – talks about what they’ve done in London. He repeats something a lodge president said to him – that unionism means standing side by side holding hands and supporting each other. He finishes it off: “We do this because it’s right. We do this because we share common enemies, and we do it because it might change people’s minds.”

Imagine if it did. Imagine if people in Edlington thought differently about gays.

It’s his turn. He realises that he can’t give the sort of speech he’s given everywhere else.

“I’m Louis – I’m a miner. Nobody in Edlington knows I’m gay. Except Stan, my best friend, who noticed when I wanted to get off with young Harry here and told me to go for it.” People laugh, Louis loves that feeling. He can’t tell how Harry reacts though. Harry is down the back with a camera over his face.

Louis talks about what it’s like to be on strike and to be worried about his job.

“Afterwards, after we win, we could have a world that was better – where people had jobs and we didn’t have to hide that we were gay. That’s all I want. And I think a Lesbian and Gay Supports the Miners group in Manchester would help make that happen.”

Nick Grimshaw then starts talking about what the group could do. The discussion becomes more open. Mike has some practical advice about collecting and record keeping.

The first collection is going to be on Friday. Everyone has to bring buckets. There is a long pause when someone asks who will be responsible for making signs and bringing tape. But eventually two men, who Louis thinks are a couple, volunteer.

Then they talk about where to send the money. Louis wants to say ‘anywhere but my pit. I don’t want to start a village-wide discussion on lesbians and gays’. But he doesn’t and instead they ask him to ask his welfare committee to accept the money and he has no choice but to say yes.

Harry disappears as soon as the meeting is over. Louis wants to follow him. Wants to see him tonight. Was hoping Harry wanted that too. But Harry is gone and Louis needs to be charming – the group is important.

Louis talks to Mike a bit. Mike is small and has glasses that cover most of his face. He had got the hell out of Lancashire and never looked back. Louis can see why – he really can. When Mike talks about the life he has in London, Louis wonders why he stayed home. Why he didn’t catch the first train out.

But really, he knows why he stayed in Edlington. Why can’t he have everything?

Now some percentage of the room are singing Solidarity Forever. Louis joins in. He’s singing solidarity forever and there’s two men snogging in a corner – and that’s all he’s ever wanted from life. Almost all.

Louis thinks about going back tomorrow without having said anything to Harry. He can’t bear it. He asks Nick if he knows where Harry is. Harry had told Nick he was going to develop some photographs

“Would you take me to the darkroom?” Louis doesn’t like having to ask for yet more help from an older, smarter gay man, but he wants to see Harry. “I don’t want to go without seeing him.”

Nick stares at him for a moment and then relents. He passes the key over to one of the women of the group and Louis follows him out.

The first darkroom has no-one in it. The next door Nick knocks on, Harry’s voice replies “I’m using this room – the others are free.”

“Good I’ve got a miner who wants to see you.” Nick says.

“I can’t open the door for another three minutes.” That sounds like he will open the door, once the time is up.

“Alright I’ll leave your miner here.” Nick directs that at the door, then he turns to Louis, “Have fun.”

Louis sits on the floor and waits for Harry to come out and let him in.

After the three minutes are up, Harry stands in the doorway. “If you come in you can’t leave again you know? It’s called a darkroom for a reason. It has to stay dark. If you come in with me you’re stuck until I’m done.” Harry’s voice sounds hostile, but the idea of being stuck in a room with him is perfect, so Louis just scrambles up and follows him in.

“I’m about to close the door, so if you want to do anything else tonight you better leave now.” Louis stays put and Harry closes the door, a red light comes on.

“Why did you decide suddenly to develop your pictures late at night?”

“It’s hard to get darkroom time during the day. You have to book and places book up quickly, but in the evenings there’s almost always a darkroom free.” Harry is fiddling with a machine. A picture comes up of Nick talking tonight, but backwards, the light bits are dark and the dark bits are light.

“Wow,” is all Louis could think of to say. He sits down on an old chair and watches.

Harry fiddles with the machine a bit and the print changes slightly. Then he turns it off and there’s just the odd red light again. He gets a piece of paper and puts it on where the picture had been. Then he fiddles with the machine.

Nick appears on the paper.

“Magic.”

Harry seems to smile at that. Maybe he still likes Louis a bit.

The light shuts off, and Harry takes the photo and puts it in a container with liquid in it. He sets a new alarm.

“It’s such a good photo too. You captured Nick’s king of the party and also mother hen feeling.”

Harry doesn’t seem to respond to that, just frowns and watches the photo.

Apparently photographs need many baths as Harry moves it from one container to another, not speaking. When he is done, he pegs it up on a line to dry.

He then goes back to the first machine. As if he is going do the whole thing again.

“Harry.” Harry turns and Louis has to figure out what he wants to say. “I’m sorry I got stupidly drunk. I wanted to see you last night and today.”

“You were very drunk. I didn’t fancy trying to smuggle you in. You were very loud.”

“So, you wanted to see me too?”

Harry makes eye contact for the first time since probably the train station. “Of course – but you were busy flirting with the cool London gays.”

Louis feels a moment of hot defensiveness. He’d just joked around a bit and accepted a beer and a cigarette. But then he looks at Harry, really looks at him. Harry doesn’t know.

“Oh Harry.” He grabs Harry’s hands and pulls him forward till he is sitting on Louis’ lap. “Every day we were planning this trip I thought of seeing you, of talking to you, of touching you. That’s all I wanted and all I was thinking about.”

“But…” Harry doesn’t finish his thought – just looks down.

“Last night I was terrified and you went and sat so far away from me. That’s the real reason I got so drunk. Not just because of Thatcher, but because I was meeting all these gay people. I know you see them all the time – but it’s terrifying for me.”

Harry kisses him then. Hot urgent pressure. Harry smells so good.

Louis can feel Harry’s cock through their jeans. Each time either of them move they rub together some more.

After not nearly long enough Louis breaks off, “This is amazing, but if we don’t stop that’ll be it – and if you want to do something else…” Louis trails off and just looks at Harry. He is especially beautiful in the strange light. And he’s smiling.

Louis can feel Harry rock forward.

“Could I suck you off? I realised after I said goodbye that I’d never even seen your cock. And I want to.”

“You want to?” Louis isn’t going to say no to that – and Harry looks like he really does want to.

“Could we – you’re so beautiful I’d love to see you naked.” Usually Louis would be terrified to say yes to a request like that, let alone make it. But something about the dim red light of the darkroom makes everything seem a bit safer.

Harry moves forward and pulls the hem of Louis’ jumper up and over his head. Louis does the same to Harry.

When they are both topless, Louis reaches out and touches Harry’s chest. His body is so long – Louis wants to maybe bite it – if Harry is alright with that.

“I have four nipples” Harry takes Louis’ hand and puts it on one of the extra nipples. Louis strokes it a little bit.

“Does it feel good when they’re touched?”

Harry doesn’t say anything at first and then – “It does when you do it.”

Louis likes that. He likes that idea a lot.

Harry reaches down and takes off his shoes and socks.

“What are you doing?” Louis is supposed to be turning Harry on by touching his extra nipples, but Harry is fiddling around with his footwear.

“Last time I realised that I was wearing nothing but my socks and I felt like the most unsexy idiot. So, I promised myself that next time I’d deal with my shoes early on.”

Louis laughs. “I promise that you’re sexy even if you’re just wearing socks, so there’s no need to worry.”

Louis sits down on the chair and sticks his feet out “But it’s clear that you think socks and shoes are very unsexy – so you better take mine off too, so that they don’t ruin the mood later on.”

It’s never been like this for Louis. Whether he was on Canal Street or back at someone’s place, he’s always felt as if he was on their turf. As if they knew what to do and he had to take what was offered.

With Harry, he feels fun, light, loving and safe.

Once Harry’s taken off Louis’ shoes in an exaggeratedly careful manner. Louis stands up again and reaches for Harry’s fly.

Louis doesn’t feel self-conscious of his own body. He just wants to look at Harry. Harry’s legs, Harry’s chest, Harry’s cock. All tinged a beautiful red from the darkroom light bulb.

Harry puts his arms on Louis’ shoulders and their lips meet again. Now Louis feels the sweet softness of Harry’s lips, in tandem with the warmth of his skin everywhere their bodies touch. The feeling of their cocks rubbing together is even more overwhelming. But before Louis can say anything, Harry has dropped to his knees.

“It’s my first time – tell me if I get anything wrong.” He sounds a little anxious, which is the last thing Louis wants. He reaches down and runs his hand through Harry’s curls.

“Hey – you’ll be amazing. Just no teeth.”

Harry smiles, “I know that. I’ve been listening to what people say.”

And before Louis could think about a good response, he feels Harry’s mouth around him.

Louis looks down. Seeing Harry’s mouth around his cock and Harry’s beautiful hair moving – Louis is even more turned on. Harry is tentative, exploring. He doesn’t really have a rhythm, but it doesn’t matter, because Louis can see him and feel him and that’s all he wants.

Soon, embarrassingly soon, Louis taps Harry’s shoulder. Harry pulls off and, two strokes from his own hand later, Louis comes.

Harry grabs a piece of fabric – probably one of their socks and mops up the cum on the floor and then Louis’ hand.

“Sorry I didn’t – you know. I thought I’d probably mess it up and that wouldn’t be sexy.”

Louis smiles – Harry is so lovely. Louis wants to take care of him. “Everything you do is sexy, Harry. But also don’t feel bad for not doing something. I only want you to do things you want to do. Now talking of…”

Harry doesn’t even last as long as Louis had.

Afterwards, Louis flops backwards and lies on the floor. The very old carpet scratches his back.

“Every day since I left Manchester, I’ve been thinking of this, of you.” It’s a bit cold, but Louis doesn’t want to get dressed yet. Not when he can feel Harry’s skin against his.

“Me too. Me too.” Harry snuggles against Louis.

“Being alone with you was what I was looking forward to most about coming to Manchester. Everything else terrified me.” Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I should have let you know. When I got off the train, I wanted to push you against the wall and snog you. But I couldn’t.” He wants Harry to know how important he is. How important he is to Louis.

He feels Harry shiver. That isn’t good. Louis finds Harry’s clothes and then gets dressed himself.

“I thought you were looking for someone better than me.” Harry sounds so small and sad. Louis needs to fix that.

“Harry” he reaches out and gently touches Harry’s cheek. “I’m not. And also that’d be stupid, because there’s no-one better than you.”

“Could we be – could we be boyfriends?”

“Can we be? Can men?” A boyfriend? Louis had never thought.

“Nick has a friend called Harry and he has a boyfriend. And Nick wants that musician guy to be his boyfriend.” Harry seems sure and confident about what being boyfriends would mean.

“But they’re all in Manchester. Would you want to be my boyfriend? Even though I’m going back tomorrow? You could have a proper boyfriend.” Louis knows gay men could be couples. He knows that happens. But this promising to be together even when they are separated feels like something different, something he hadn’t thought possible.

“You can be a proper boyfriend even in Doncaster. We can write letters. And maybe our group will come to Doncaster. I want you.” Harry puts arms on Louis’ shoulders and Louis drops his hands to Harry’s hips.

“I want that. I want that too. I’ll write you all the time.”

Harry kisses him, just briefly. “Boyfriends then.”

Louis finds the chair and sits down on it. He’s overwhelmed.

“Do you need to do more developing? Because I like watching my boyfriend do clever things.”

The word ‘boyfriend’ rings through Louis’ brain the rest of that night. When he is watching Harry, when they are walking home, as he is giving Harry a blowjob. Harry is his boyfriend. He needs to take care of Harry. Harry wants him. Each time he touches Harry, or kisses him (or one time he runs his tongue down Harry’s cock) – he’s trying to make sure Harry knows what he is thinking. “I like you too. I’m so happy we’re boyfriends.” He makes sure he says the words as well. So, Harry knows in all the different ways.

In bed, Louis holds Harry and they talk about after the strike. They could live together. Maybe Louis could come to Manchester.

The next morning, Louis wakes up beside his boyfriend. His boyfriend kisses him to wake him up. He pulls his boyfriend back into the bed next to him. He feels his boyfriend’s hard cock.

After Harry’s huge hands have brought them both off together, Louis lies back in the bed. Waking up like this is more brilliant than he ever imagined.

Harry gets out of bed and leaves the room. When he comes back, he throws Louis a flannel and looks through one of his bags.

“Oi! Boyfriend – aren’t you supposed to be paying me attention?” Is that alright? It seems like one of the advantages of having a boyfriend might be that you can say things like that.

“I just did.” Harry is smiling, so it’s an alright thing to say. “I just have to sort out what I’m doing today.”

Louis gets out of bed. “For your project?”

“Yes. You remembered.”

“Of course.” For a moment, Louis thinks about leaving it at that. But Harry is his boyfriend. “I’ve read every letter you sent me an embarrassing number of times. I could practically recite them.”

Harry looks pleased. Pink and pleased. Louis picks up a photograph of Niall collecting.

“You never sent me this one. I love it. You really get what’s going on with Niall and the man giving the money and the other man who is hostile. Are you doing your project on the strike?”

Harry seems to tense at that, but he just says. “No. I’m probably going to take photos of the Student Union building in different light. The brick work and the patterns and stuff. Or maybe kitchen implements.”

“I’m sure they’ll be good. The photos you sent me were so good.”

Harry is still and quiet now. Something is wrong. Louis sits against the wall on the bed, pulls Harry after him and gives him a cuddle.

“What’s wrong, Haz?”

It isn’t very clear at first, because Harry is crying. Louis doesn’t like that something has made Harry cry. He holds him and strokes his hair and tries to make sense of what he is saying.

Harry’s tutor hadn’t liked the strike photos and the picture of Louis in particular. He’d suggested that Harry took a bad picture because he didn’t know Louis.

“I think your photos are brilliant, Harry.”

“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.” Even under these circumstances, the word gives Louis a little thrill.

Louis feels a bit out of his depth. At school his attitude had been: ‘this is boring and also fuck them’. And it had been boring. But polytechnic is different. Harry wants to be there, wants to learn to take photographs.

Harry talks a bit more about how he feels about photography and how scared he is that he’s bad at it.

“Did you like the photos you took about the strike?” Louis asks.

“I don’t know. I hate that one he said looked like Che Guevara now. But sometimes I think the other ones aren’t all terrible. But my tutor said I was terrible at taking photos of people and should stick to objects. But I like people. They’re interesting to photograph.”

Louis reaches down and picks up Harry’s exercise book, which has various prints sticking out of it.

“Then keep doing it, love. You’re only in your first year, right? Aren’t you supposed to be learning how to do things? It’d be a bit dumb of them to be ‘you should only take photos you can already take well.’” Louis’ experience of education had been of people doing exactly that. But he wants to say something that makes Harry feel better.

It seems to work.

“I hadn’t taken any photos of people since my tutor said that. Not until you asked me to last night. I liked taking them last night.”

“Keep doing it Hazza.” Louis gives Harry a kiss. “If you like it, keep doing it. You don’t have to make it your project, if your tutor is an idiot who doesn’t like your work, but keep doing it. I think your photos are beautiful.”

Harry talks more about the photographs he’d like to take. Louis seems to have helped.

When Louis has to think about leaving, a thought comes into his head.

“Could you take a photograph of the two of us. On the bed, together? I love having a photo of you. But having a photo of both of us together – boyfriends…”

Harry looks unsure. It’s hard to take photos if you’re in them. Harry explains all the problems with focus, but he obviously wants the picture too.

Louis sits on the bed as Harry sits with him and then sits away and holds his arm out.

Then Harry starts taking photographs and Louis looks at the camera and looks at Harry and tries not to blink. He must have taken a lot of photos – maybe six.

“I’m sorry to waste your film with my silly demands.” He hopes Harry won’t think they’re silly.

“Worth it if we get a photo of us together. Worth it even for a chance of a photo.” Harry says. He is so perfect.

Louis has one quick look for anything he might have left behind and Harry puts his shoes on.

Once they leave the room they won’t be able to touch each other again. Harry will buy Louis breakfast and drop him off at the train station. But they won’t be able to hold hands, or kiss, or touch.

They kiss one last time and hold each other tight.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most ridiculous question I asked in writing this chapter: "Nick Grimshaw's got a crush on someone in the Manchester music scene of 1984 - ideally someone a bit like the people Nick crushes on -attractive and somewhat ambiguously publicly straight.  
> I can make up someone if there isn't someone appropriate. The Smiths just realised their first album that year. Is Morrisey too obvious?"
> 
> To which the reply was: "I mean obvious for a reason"
> 
> Come to my tumblr [dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram](http://dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram.tumblr.com). I'm going to post imges and video that I found while researching this fic (the TV shows are actual tv shows, the banners are actual banners, the copies of 1980s feminist magazines are actual copies of 1980s feminist magazines). I'd love to hear comments or questions.


	3. Edlington

_27 October 1984_

Before he turns off the lights, Harry quickly looks round the darkroom, checking they hadn’t left anything embarrassing behind the night before.

He starts with some more of the kitchen implement series. They are supposed to look a little over-exposed, but it’s easy to go too far. Five pictures are enough for now.

He should work on the photos of the student union building.

He looks through the contact sheet he’d made of the photos from last night and chooses one to develop. Picture after picture comes into focus. He loves watching people he knows slowly appear.

As they dry, Harry thinks about his project and Louis, but mostly his project. Can he do the strike? He’s going collecting with Niall again. He could take more photographs there. Maybe he could go visit Louis. That thought distracts him for quite some time.

He’s supposed to learn, right? He’s not just supposed to be good at everything. Maybe his strike photos aren’t any good yet, but he wants to take pictures of people. He’ll keep taking photos of the Student Union as well, but he is going to take strike photos. Louis wants him to.

That night Harry goes collecting with Nick and Matt. Harry doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Matt, he’s an actual photographer. They start by going round the Rem and the other pubs and clubs. They don’t get the sort of money Mark talked about in London, but it’s not bad. Some people are rude about miners – saying they’re all homophobic. Harry is angry at that – angry on Louis’ behalf to the extent it isn’t true and also to the extent it is.

They hang out on Canal Street itself for a while, to see if people cruising will give money.

Nick calls him over. “Hey Harry, see that pretty young man over there? How about you try and talk some money out of him? I bet you can’t.”

Harry’s been pretty successful so far. Nick knows almost everyone and that gets money out of some people (and means others won’t even look at them). But lots of people don’t know Harry and that seems to get money just as fast, if not faster. Nick probably knows this guy is a bit tight. Harry likes the challenge.

“I’ll get some money out of him, watch me.” A little bit of flirting will go a long way.

“Alright, but Harry this is important – do not suggest sex with him in any way, even a little bit, flirt all you like but don’t say anything that implies a sex act.” Harry tries to interrupt. “I know you wouldn’t, you’re faithful to your miner. But be extra careful with this guy.”

Harry is extra careful and very flirtatious. He gets five quid out of him – loads. The man looks affronted when Harry leaves.

Nick is grinning like a mad thing when Harry comes back and Matt is laughing. “Congratulations Harry Styles, you just got five pounds out of a member of the Manchester Constabulary.”

“That was a police officer? You got me to go flirt with a police officer?” Harry has been brought up to respect police officers. But the rules are different here. “What’s he doing here? Isn’t being gay legal?”

Nick looks at Harry like he’s a tiny baby deer that’s just learned to walk and explains that while sex between men has been decriminalised, the Manchester Police really hate queers and starts to tell Harry all the different ways the police try to trap men on Canal Street.

Harry feels a moment of glee that he got money from the bastard.

Then he hits Nick.

“You told me to go flirt with him! You wanker. What if I’d been arrested.”

“I told you not to mention any sex acts. Anyway, it’s an important part of your education. How to spot an undercover cop. And I don’t care how much you are in love with your miner, you need to learn.”

Harry listens as Nick explains the signs of an undercover cop – the haircut is the biggest give away, but also look for outfits that seem badly put together.

“It’s not that all gays are good at dressing. That’s a homophobic myth – and demonstrably untrue, both from many of the outfits in the Rem and also your trousers.”

Harry might have objected, but he knows that his trousers are pretty terrible. He can’t buy new trousers and give money to the miners. And Louis doesn’t mind his clothes, so fuck Nick.

“Anyway, it’s more that they’ll look mismatched in some way. It’ll mostly be a police officer’s own clothes and then they’ll add something they think looks gay. So here you had boring shoes, boring terrible trousers, slightly gay shirt, and then terrible jacket that matches the trousers and not the shirt.”

Harry can see what Nick means and why it might be important.

“Men like that, you get five quid out of them for the miners, but don’t accept any other money and never ever hook up with them.”

“Promise I won’t, tell me more.” Harry is making fun of Nick a little bit. But Nick likes imparting wisdom.

“Also, if you want new trousers, but don’t have the money, you need to learn to charity shop.” Harry isn’t sure whether to object to that advice or ask for details.

They count the money back at Nick’s flat. They empty their buckets on the table. Nick deals with the notes and Harry looks for 50p pieces. He makes a pile of ten – five quid. He levels off another lot so they are the same height – another five quid. They got £13.50 in 50p pieces.

Matt finds a pen and lists all the totals from 1p and 2p to the five pound notes. Adds them all up.

“Forty-two pound 13p – not bad.”

It sounds like a lot of money. Not when Harry thinks of the 100,000 people who are on strike. But still, a lot of money.

Matt is going to take the money home and look after it till they can figure out how to get it to Doncaster. There is something going on with the bank accounts that means they’ll probably have to take it there in cash.

Afterwards they get a drink. Nick continues to tell Harry important life lessons on how to be gay in Manchester. The virtues of different bars, more signs of undercover police officers, what you might get arrested for, and if one were to think about having sex outside, where to do it.

“But most important of all: don’t fuck without a condom. This new disease. The gay cancer – it’s not fucking around. People die slowly and horribly and I don’t want that to happen. Not to anyone, but not to beautiful young men who are coming out and finding the world like you. Doesn’t matter who you fuck, fuck a miner, fuck a cop, fuck a communist. Promise me you’ll wear a condom.”

Harry promises. Both because the disease sounds scary and because Nick is so serious about it.

When he gets home, Harry writes to Louis and tells him about the money they’ve collected. And that he hopes, once they’ve collected some more, that he’ll get to come visit.

*

_6 November 1984_

One skill Louis has developed over the course of the strike is figuring out who has fags and how to get one. So here, fifteen minutes before the committee meeting, he is smoking his precious loot outside the Miners’ Welfare and telling himself it won’t be that bad.

Today Louis is going to take the letter from Manchester LGSM to the relief committee asking to formally twin with Yorkshire Main. They’ve raised a hundred and fifty quid.

The worst that can happen is that everyone will talk about how disgusting gay people are. Louis can handle that. Louis has handled that.

Sam is chairing, which is definitely good. Usually it’s a much older and scarier lady. They have some business about the money coming in and the money going out. The numbers are high – but also nowhere near enough. It helps to know that the money is needed.

“Louis – you got some business for us, love?”

“Yes, I’ve been speaking at universities and last time I also spoke at the opening meeting of Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, Manchester branch.” Louis tries not to hear people’s response. “The London Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners group collects for a village in South Wales. They’ve raised thousands of pounds. The Manchester group would like to give their money to us. They’ve collected a hundred and fifty pounds so far. They wrote a letter outlining their plans.”

The silence feels loud.

“You talked at their opening – were you representing the colliery?” It’s a friend of Stan’s Dad asking. It’s not what Louis wants to hear – and definitely not from an older miner he likes and admires.

“I just talked about my own experiences – I didn’t speak on behalf of the colliery. When they asked if they could provide money to our colliery I told them to write to you.”

The asker nods. Louis hopes that no-one else will draw attention to his role.

“Lesbians and Gays?” John is the husband of one of Mum’s best friends. “I don’t know about that, it seems controversial – I mean what would the tabloids say?”

“The same thing they always say ‘Miners ae ruining the country with their greed. Aren’t the bosses great.’” Paul says. People laugh.

Louis bites the inside of his lip. He is so glad that Paul isn’t terrible.

Sam is reading the letter: “They’ve said that they would like to know how to get the money to us and they’ve included the possibility of a visit.”

The Mum of one of Lottie’s friends says that it sounds like a bit much and Jack, who was a few years ahead of Louis at school, says that people can’t be expected to accept just anyone into their homes and that it sets a bad example to the children. Louis concentrates on a spot on the table.

“This is all a bit of bollocks. We’ve had all sorts of people coming through. We’ve got the people from Greenham Common. If people want to stand with us, we say ‘yes, thank you’ and stand with them. And if anyone makes things difficult for the guests, they’ll come through me.” That’s Stan’s Mum. Has Stan told her? Actually maybe Stan has an uncle – his Mum’s brother who lives in London and never got married.

Jack is about to respond.

“Do you need anything else from me?” Louis doesn’t want to hear any more.

He smokes the rest of the fag he’d been smoking earlier. And his emergency one he has been keeping for a while. It isn’t enough, but he decides to go chop vegetables for Sarah. He’ll do something useful and keep his hands busy.

Stan’s Mum comes and finds him more than an hour later.

“Paul’s going to write back to the group and formally invite them to visit.” She gives him a hug. “Well done, love.”

Louis makes sure the committee knows that his family can billet one person when the group comes. But then he leaves as soon as he can. He isn’t sure he can deal with anyone at the moment – friend or foe.

He nips by the post box on the way home and writes a quick note to Harry. He’ll have to write a proper letter (maybe one not suitable for the whole group) when he gets home. But a note will do for now.

Harry is coming. As Louis posts the letter it suddenly becomes real.

Louis better hurry home – the twins will be back soon. Although possibly Fizzy has persuaded Mum to let her take the day off school to do women’s group stuff. The Greenham women arrived last night. It’s macaroni cheese until further notice.

Fizzy is home – the women’s group had taken the Greenham women to the picket line and Miners’ Welfare today and they are going to come to the social tonight. Tomorrow they’ll do a tour of other pits. Apparently Fizzy has persuaded her teacher that she will write an essay on it, so she’s going too. Louis isn’t sure if the teachers are going soft, the strike has got to them, or if Fizzy is just way smarter than him. All three are true.

The Greenham woman, Jacky, is talking to Fizzy in the living room. He makes a pot of tea (after telling Fizzy off for not having already made one) and sits down and joins them. His letter to Harry will have to wait.

They are talking about the relationship between nuclear power and nuclear weapons. Louis knows there is a connection and that’s why the Greenham women support the miners.

“You said you’d tell me more about feminism.” Fizzy asks. “Don’t say anything rude, Louis.”

He isn’t going to, he’s kind of interested. He thinks of the dykey, spiky women at the LGSM meeting. They are probably feminists.

Jacky talks about equal pay and various laws and the importance of women having control over their own bodies. She tells Fizzy she’ll give her some back issues of _Spare Rib_ , a feminist magazine. Fizzy deserves to have her questions answered.

“Is it true that you have to be a lesbian?” Fizzy asks. Louis isn’t sure if this is what he is waiting for or dreading, but he wants to see what Jacky is going to say.

She laughs, “It’s not compulsory, but a lot of women do discover they like other women.”

“Why?”

“Well, women are told they have to like men, ever since they’re little girls. And when women start to question things like ‘why should I cook, or why should I do the dishes’ – they often realise that what they want is different from what they have.”

Fizzy seems to think about it.

“But Louis been told he’s supposed to like women and he doesn’t.”

“Fizzy!” Louis’ life flashes before his eyes a little bit, then he realises what Fizzy meant. “Just because I haven’t had a girlfriend for a while doesn’t mean you can tell our guest I’m some sort of male-chauvinist pig.” His final attempt to be straight hadn’t ended well. He’d been furious at Hannah, even though it had been almost entirely his fault. He’d probably said some stupid things to Fizzy then. He wishes he hadn’t. And not just because of the way Jacky is looking at him.

“Other girls might make fun of me if I say I’m a feminist.”

“They might, they might not, you don’t know until you do it. And school isn’t forever. While you are a kid you have to stay in one place, where your parents are. But when you’re older you can choose who you spend time with.”

School, explore the world, live where you like, be gay. Louis doesn’t quite understand why these other people are all able to leap so easily – to expect other cities to accept them. What’s wrong with him?

“Do you think it’s alright to be a lesbian then?” Fizzy is asking him.

“Of course.” Louis concentrates hard to make his voice sound even. “There are lots of lesbians at Greenham Common, aren’t there – and they’re fighting for the same thing. And there are lesbian and gay groups all around the country who are collecting money for us. The Manchester group is coming here – I talked to them the other week.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“I did – when I went to see the university groups.” Fizzy is still a bit put out.

“Do you think we could have a lesbian stay with us? So I can learn more about feminism.”

“I’m going to ask Mum.” It will be a gay and not a lesbian, but he will ask Harry to keep an eye out for feminist propaganda for his 12 year-old sister. “I’m sure there’ll be someone for you to pester with questions about how the world works, love.”

It’s getting on – Louis better turn the oven on so he can heat up the macaroni cheese.

He waits up for Mum. He wants to tell her about the LGSM visit himself. Waiting is nerve-wracking. Fizzy is now apparently fine with lesbians as long as they’ll teach her about feminism. But Louis has been listening for years. He knows what his family has said.

He puts the kettle on when Mum should be leaving work, so there’ll be a nice pot of tea for her when she gets home.

She seems happy to see him.

“So, is Fizzy going to run away and join Greenham Common?” They settle in the living room with a cup of tea, while her macaroni cheese reheats.

“I don’t think so – the woman was explaining feminism to her and gave her some magazines, but she hasn’t packed her bags or anything.”

“Good it’s way too early for her to pester me to get to leave school. It’s like posh women in the olden days who couldn’t get married before their older sister. I refuse to have more than one girl pestering me about leaving school at once.”

“You’re going to have two pestering you one day – it’s your own fault for having twins.”

They sit and talk about the strike for a bit and about her work.

“I went along to the welfare meeting today.” Louis needs to commit himself to saying something without actually saying the scary thing.

“You don’t need anything, do you love? Don’t hide it from us if you need shoes or something. We do still have my wages coming in.”

Louis does need new shoes – and he is going to hide it.

“Not to get something – one of the groups I was talking to – Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners – they want to twin with us and they’re going to come here.” The sentence almost sounds natural. He’d practiced it enough. It’s the first time he is saying the word ‘gay’ in front of Mum.

“Lesbians and Gays? Well we’ve had these Greenham Common women and those people from Australia. It’s a big world.”

“Since they got in contact with me, I thought we could offer to billet someone?” Louis concentrates on the warmth of his hands where they’ve been holding a cup of tea.

“You and Fizzy, always promising bed space to people. Of course it’s alright, love. Do they eat meat? We’re going to be a bit sick of macaroni cheese when the Greenham woman leaves.”

“I think it should be fine – I think they eat normal things.” Louis tries not to think of Harry’s mouth while reassuring his mother, and fails miserably. “We’ll probably have Harry – the one who took the picture of me that you liked.”

“Harry, he’s….? Well, he takes lovely pictures and was very nice to the girls. It’ll be great to meet him.”

Part of Louis wants to push. Wants to find out what Mum actually thinks. Instead he puts his cup on the table, kisses her goodnight and goes to bed. He has early picketing tomorrow.

*

_9 November 1984_

There are too many people in this van. Matt is driving and Paul is up the front. Antonio and other Harry are in the back probably making out, which Harry is jealous of, or sleeping, which Harry is even more jealous of. Somehow he’d had to get up much too early, but they’d still left three hours late.

Jesse – who is from America – is also down the back. Harry is in the middle with Cara and a guy called Douglas that Nick has been flirting with. Nick is sitting on the floor. They are trying to leave Manchester and it’s taking some time.

“Oh well, the longer we take to get there, the longer it is before we’re in a mining village dressed like this.” Jesse jokes – she’s funny and definitely looks like a lesbian. Cara also looks like a grungy punky dyke, although Nick says she’s actually quite posh and when she gets drunk she starts pronouncing her vowels. Harry has yet to see it.

Harry isn’t sure whether he feels slightly relieved that he isn’t going to stand out, or sad that his clothes are so boring. One day he will ask Harry and Antonio for tips, they always look fantastic.

It takes a while to get to Doncaster, even after they manage to make their way out of Manchester. Harry falls asleep pretty quickly once they get on the motorway.

They’re stopping and starting. He realises they’ve probably got to Doncaster, but he doesn’t want to open his eyes. Then he gets hit by a flying book.

“We’re in Doncaster now – where are we going next?” Matt asks. It was a map book.

Harry finds Edlington, Louis’ village, easily enough, but where do they go when they get there? “What’s the address of the Miners’ Welfare?” Harry asks. No-one it seems to have thought to look up that crucial piece of information. And Harry can’t see any helpful labels on the map.

“We’ll have to go to your miner’s house, won’t we, Harry.” Nick’s being helpful as usual. “You know the address.”

Harry does know Louis’ address, of course he does. He just isn’t sure that Louis would want a van like this outside his house. He also doesn’t want people teasing him about Louis in Louis’ village.

“You guys have to shut up about me and Louis – nobody in here knows. And yeah, I’ll find his address.”

Nick grabs his hand. “It’s alright, hun, you don’t need to worry. People know not to talk.”

Harry concentrates on the map and giving directions. They pull up outside a semi-detached house on a quiet street. They all get out of the van. Other Harry and Antonio have their arms around each other. Cara has a mostly shaved head. They don’t look like they belong in a mining village in Doncaster.

Harry realises he’s going to have to knock on the door. He hopes Louis is home.

He assumes that the lady who answers is Louis’ Mum.

“Um... Hi, my name’s Harry. I’m from Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.” He gestures behind him. Although – as they were the only group there and the combination of clothing and badges clearly signalled lesbians and gays and also supporting the miners – he probably needn’t have bothered.

“I assume you’re Louis’ Mum – Mrs Tomlinson? We were supposed to go to the Miners’ Welfare, but we don’t know where that is.”

The lady laughs at that, but in a nice way. “Typical of Louis to go to all this trouble and miss out a central step. Tell you what – I’ll leave a note for the girls letting them know where I am and I’ll give you directions as you drive down. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea first?

Harry is quite thirsty, but a cup of tea with Louis’ Mum is a bit more than he can take right now.

At the Miners’ Welfare, Matt gets the money and everyone else carries a box of clothes from the small clothing drive they did.

It looks so busy. People with banners, people carrying food, coming and going. There is an argument going on off to the right. Boxes of food are being carried into the kitchen. He sees Louis sitting at a table at the back.

Everyone else is fading back, like they expect him to speak. Traitors. But the only thing to do is to go forward.

“Hello, my name is Harry Styles. We’re from Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.” By the time Harry has ended that sentence, the bustle around them has definitely quieted down. He very much wishes he was someone with more experience and confidence. Someone who isn’t also mostly thinking about seeing his boyfriend again and how beautiful he looks.

The group at the table stands up. One larger older man comes forward. “Hello and welcome to Yorkshire Main Miners’ Welfare. I’m Paul Higgins.” Everyone shakes hands and the flurry of activity hides the quietness in the rest of the hall.

Louis joins the group – he looks happy to see Harry, but tense. Them being here must be so difficult for him. “We weren’t sure when you were going to arrive.”

“It took us a while, and we didn’t have the address so we had to go to your house. Your Mum brought us here.”

“Mum!” Louis sees her. “Harry’s the one who sent stickers for the girls. I hope you were nice to him.”

“Of course I was nice to him. I blamed you for them not having directions anyway.”

“Probably right – I don’t think I ever did send an address – surely everyone knows where the Miners’ Welfare is? I’ve been to plenty of pit villages for the first time and found the Miners’ Welfare easy enough.”

Louis’ Mum is having none of it and firmly tells Louis that he is silly to expect people from Manchester to know pit villages as well as him. She says Manchester the way some people might say ‘Vladivostok’. Louis’ Mum then leaves to sort out the twins, but she says she’ll come back tonight.

Around his Mum Louis acts like a teenager, rather than the amazing demi-god Harry usually sees him as. It’s a bit of a distraction from the tension.

Everyone is very polite, everyone shakes hands. Not everyone is happy.

Harry can’t stay here, this close to Louis, not able to touch, not really able to talk. He has to find something to do.

“Excuse me, Mr Higgins?”

“Call me Paul, lad, everyone does.”

“Paul, would it be possible to take some photographs. I’m a photography student.” Harry’s brought prints of his photographs. He’d carefully edited the numbers of pictures of Louis, so he wasn’t too obvious.

“Great lad.” Paul flicks through the pictures. “I’ll put them up on the board to show what good people are doing speaking. Is that a twenty pound note that woman is putting in the bucket?”

“Yes – that’s from the Manchester student mining support group. I think their money is going to Doncaster NUM as a whole. We haven’t got a twenty pound note yet.”

“Every penny helps. You take your photographs – I’ll make an announcement in a bit so people know who you are.”

He’ll introduce himself to people first. He doesn’t want to start taking photographs without knowing anything about anything.

Harry decides the easiest place to get away from the weird tension is the kitchen, so he asks if he can help. After some suggestion that he is a guest, he’s given a big pile of onions to chop. After a while, Louis joins him.

“What are you doing here, Louis lad?” A brown-haired woman asks. “Don’t pretend in front of the guest; you’ve hardly ever helped in the kitchen.”

“Now you’ve ruined it, Sarah! I was trying to pretend I was helpful. That or rescue him. You don’t have to spend the afternoon chopping onions, Harry.”

“I want to chop onions, but you can help. I was hoping to take some photos later. So, I thought I should understand what I was doing first.”

“He’s a good lad, we’re keeping him.” Sarah says. Louis hears something and goes back to where people are arguing.

She talks about what they’re doing. They have to feed people from the picket line. They feed hundreds three days a week. Harry’s onions are a tiny drop in the bucket, just like the money he’s managed to collect.

Once Harry has chopped his onions, he starts taking photos. He uses almost a whole roll of film in the kitchen. He photographs the kitchen itself and also the people in it. He doesn’t have long to take pictures because people are bustling around, but they tolerate him.

Louis meets him when he leaves the kitchen, “I love watching you taking pictures.”

“Is it alright if I keep doing it?”

“Go ahead – I’m sorting out introductions and things for tonight.” Louis still seems tense. Harry figures the most useful thing he can do is get out of the way.

There are a bunch of kids playing outside the Miners’ Welfare, some kind of game where they run after each other. Louis’ Mum is leaving two girls, who must be his twin sisters, with the other kids.

“Hello, Harry love, Daisy, Phoebe, this is the nice lad who sent you stickers. Say thank you.” Suddenly Harry has two girls staring at him.

They both make dutiful thank you noises and one returns to the game, but the other looks at him.

“Are you taking pictures?” She asks

“If you’d let me – did you see the picture I took of your brother speaking?”

“Mum put it on the fridge.”

“Do you think you and your friends would be alright with me taking a photo of you playing? What are you playing?”

“Pigs and pickets.” She says, as if it was obvious. “You can take photos if you like.” And she runs off to join the others.

He takes pictures of the kids running and hiding behind the trees. As he takes photographs, he sees the strike everywhere. The careful darns in a kid’s jersey, the places where shoes have been cut open to let toes out, the patches on the knees and the clothes that are too short. He tries to capture these details in his photos, but he doesn’t want to make these kids look pitiful. They’re having fun – he sort of wants to join in.

After he changes the film and takes some more photographs, one of Louis’ sisters comes up to him.

“Do you have any more stickers?” Harry does – he is prepared. He’d chopped up a sheet so he can give one to each child. Once he’s given them out, he joins in the chasing game. They decide that since Harry is big, he is the police officer and he chases them round and round the field and trees. Sometimes he catches a kid and scoops them up. “Oh no, you’re going to jail!” The kid wriggles out of his arms and keeps running.

These kids have much more stamina than him. He wants to collapse on the ground, but the dew has already fallen, so it seems much more sensible to go inside and collapse there.

When he comes back inside, he wishes he’d stayed with the kids. There is definite tension. LGSM are all sitting in one corner. There are a few people arguing and one young man is talking very heatedly with the older man who had told Harry he could take photos. He can’t see Louis anywhere.

He thinks about taking a photograph of the conflict, but decides he doesn’t want to document it. A man who looks vaguely familiar is moving tables, so Harry gives him a hand. It’s Louis’ friend Stan.

“What about the children? Are we going to tell them it’s alright? That it’s normal? So, they’ve raised some money. They’re perverts.”

The older man is speaking much more quietly and Harry doesn’t know what he is saying. He seems to be standing tall.

Stan shows him where the spare chairs are kept. As they are putting the last of the chairs out, the man storms out. People follow him. Not all of the hall, or even half, but at least a quarter.

“Don’t worry about Jack. He’s always been a cunt.”

Should Harry ask more? Maybe he doesn’t want to know. He follows Stan to get ashtrays.

Louis is in the corner talking with Paul.

Sarah comes up to Harry and tells him not to worry – them lot are right idiots.

But it’s hard not to notice the silence, the people holding back. It’s not just the people who are storming out.

Harry takes a photograph of the tables. He’ll get this meal from every angle.

Nick comes up to him: “It’s alright for you running off and playing with the kids, taking photos and helping in the kitchen. Some of us have nothing to do but stand here and be judged for how very straight we’re not.”

“I’d go mad if I didn’t have anything to distract me from all this. Not even for myself….” He leaves the uncertainty hanging there. It feels like a betrayal to even say Louis’ name.

“Nothing to it but to break the ice. Come and be charming. You’re good at that.” Harry isn’t sure what Nick is talking about, but he follows him.

Soon Nick is talking with three people at once, including a little old lady and seems to be entertaining them all. Harry gets deep into a conversation about photography with an old man who has a darkroom in his shed.

They get interrupted by someone banging on a pot. Tea is ready. He watches Louis as he crosses the hall and comes back with his twin sisters, joining the queue. Harry wants to be with Louis, but other people are behind him now, so it would be queue jumping.

Instead he waits at the back of the hall for everyone to come through. Once the first table is filled he takes a photograph from the same angle he took a picture of the empty table. His tutor would probably think it was obvious, but he likes the idea of showing the sheer scale of the operation.

He joins the queue. He gets out his wallet and finds a couple of pound coins. There is a box by the serving hatch where some people put money.

“Pay your way,” Mark Ashton had told them. He’d also told them that it would be tense and difficult, but it would be worth it.

After everyone has finished eating, Harry takes a photograph of the empty plates and then of all the dishes being done. He takes a turn at the sink. “You do all this three days a week?” He asks Sarah.

“Three hot meals a day. Pickets need to eat as does everyone else. Keep ‘em here, keep ‘em eating. Things are getting tough; feeding people is important.”

Harry leaves the kitchen when the dishes are done. Now the tables are cleared away and the bar is open. A band is setting up and Nick is standing on the side of the stage with Paul.

Paul says: “Hello everyone, tonight we have some special visitors all the way from Manchester. This group is called Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.” One woman takes her kids and leaves. Harry looks over at Louis, sitting down in the corner – his face isn’t visible.

“A London LGSM group has raised a lot of money for Dulais Valley, and the Manchester group has agreed to twin with us. We welcome them and thank them for their solidarity.”

Nick says, “Hello everyone, thanks for having us. I’m Nick and I’m one of the gay ones – we do also have lesbians.” There is an excruciating pause. Nick is usually better with words than that. “Anyway we’re here because we support miners. We’ve been collecting money from lesbians and gays in Manchester who support you too. You’ve got a lot of support from people who recognise that if they can break the miners, we’re all fucked.” That last line got a loud cheer.

The band starts playing. Harry wants to dance with Louis. But he might make things worse if he goes anywhere near him.

He decides that alcohol will help.

There is a youngish man standing near the bar – Harry should do more ice-breaking. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m not a poof.” The young man says in very defensive tone. Harry bites his lip and almost walks away, but feels like he should try, for Louis’ sake.

“Yeah, but do you want a drink?”

“So, you’re not trying to put the moves on me?” Harry wants to say ‘that’s a bit presumptuous, no gay man would ever put the moves on you when Louis Tomlinson is in the room’, but that would be counter-productive in a number of ways. So instead he says: “Where I come from, people not on strike buy the drinks for people on strike.” He tries to sound like he’s not from rural Cheshire and hadn’t even known that people supported the strike six weeks ago.

The beer definitely helps. The guy, Pete, tells him about picketing and how tiring it is – the frustration when people had crossed the picket line. Harry tells him a little bit about his course, and why he’s taking photographs.

“Even just what Sarah is doing in the kitchen – feeding all those people. It deserves to be remembered.”

“Sorry for being a bit of an arse before. Thanks for the drink and keep taking the photos.”

Harry feels like he’s done more than enough bridge building and wants Nick – well he wants Louis, but if Louis is busy he wants Nick.

But Louis is free – his Mum is taking the younger girls home and Louis is saying goodbye.

Harry walks up to them. “Thanks for showing the way here, Mrs Tomlinson.”

“Call me Jay, love – you’ll be staying at ours? We should have room for a couple of people in the living room and one in Louis’ bed while he sleeps on a mattress on the floor. If more space is needed we can have more tomorrow by putting the girls all in together. But these girls need to go to sleep reasonably soon, and it’s Lottie’s late night at the hairdressers – so no more than three tonight.”

When Jay’s left, Louis turns to Harry, “Hope you got good photos. You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

“No!” Harry realises that isn’t quite true. “I just wasn’t sure what you were comfortable with – I didn’t want to bring attention to you.”

“Oh Haz.” There is a pause – Harry wants to fill it by touching Louis but he can’t. “There’s a few people round here who are just filled with hate. And a bunch of others aren’t exactly acquitting themselves with the principles of solidarity.”

Harry wants to take Louis’ hand.

“You got dinner alright? Sorry I couldn’t help you sort everything out. I had my sisters.”

Harry had got dinner alright. Of course he had. He wants to make Louis happy, but he doesn’t know how. He can’t help but feel that he’s part of the problem. All of them coming here into Louis’ territory and being gay.

“Thank you – for coming and for being so helpful. Seeing you help chop things and put away tables... It’s done a lot to change people’s ideas of stuck-up students. It’s lovely having you here.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m just going to talk to Paul about who is being billeted where. The sooner we sort that out, the sooner we can get home and you can sleep in my bed.” Louis winks at him.

Antonio and other Harry appear to be deep in a political discussion with some older people in the corner of the room. And Nick is flirting with the new guy, Douglas. Nick must have invited him as a stop-gap measure until Morrissey remembers (or maybe realises) Nick exists.

Harry sits down near them. Two weeks ago, he’d gone home for the weekend, and he’d come back exhausted from pretending he hadn’t changed. Turns out it’s tiring being seen as gay as well as hiding. Unless you do it in the half a dozen places in Manchester that Harry had been gay in up till now.

Paul turns up with Louis to talk to their group. “So, we’ve got a few different people billeting you tonight. If three of you head home with Louis now. I’ll have another three at mine and Sam and her sister will have the rest.”

“Then tomorrow we’ll take you to the picket line. It’s getting darker in the morning, so we’ll pick you up for morning picket at 5am.” Paul says.

Harry’s brain can’t make sense of that time.

“Don’t worry – we know what you students are like – we’ll put you on the afternoon shift. Be here by midday.”

Nick and Douglas come back with them. When they get to Louis’, the place is dark and quiet, although it isn’t even ten.

“Both Mum and Dad are on earlies tomorrow. We may be woken by the twins wanting something.”

Louis makes everyone a cup of tea. He gets out mounds of blankets and put them on the sofa.

“Is that alright? Are you warm enough? I can make you hot water bottles if you need them.”

“I know plenty of ways to keep warm.” Nick replies.

“You listen here, Nick Grimshaw, if you wake a single member of my family up with your depraved sexual habits, I’ll have your head – and other just as important parts.”

“And what about you and Harry?”

Harry bites his lip – how can Nick – in Louis’ house… Was Louis alright?

But Louis just says, “Harry and me are going to be quiet,” and heads up the stairs.

Harry follows.

Louis room is tiny, right at the top of the house. There is a mattress on the floor and not much space for anything else besides Louis’ single bed. Harry closes the door behind him.

Harry feels Louis’ arms around his waist.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you all day.” Harry says and puts his arms around Louis’ shoulders.

“Me too – I’ve been wanting to touch you too. Sorry that was all so – sorry.” Louis shouldn’t be apologising.

They both begin squeezing a little tighter and a little tighter, until they lose their balance and fall in a heap on the single mattress. They’re trying not to laugh too loudly, and that just makes it funnier.

After they giggle and lie next to each other and get used to the heat of each others’ bodies, Louis says, “This is good – the bed will look sufficiently messed up tomorrow.”

“I’d make it, if I actually slept in it.”

“I’m sure you would – then my Mum would tell me off for letting a guest sleep on the floor.”

It’s amazing to be looking at Louis and touching him again. They lie and face each other and talk – proper talking. Harry tells Louis about collecting and the police officer Nick tricked him into getting money from. Louis tells Harry about picketing and what was happening with the strike. After they’ve talked about everything but their day for quite some time, Harry can’t ignore it any longer.

“Are you alright, after today?” Louis looks away and Harry wishes he hadn’t brought it up.

“How much of that did you hear? I was hoping that you didn’t get much of it. On top of everything else, it’s fucking rude of Jack.”

“But you had to hear all of it. It felt like we came here and flaunted our gayness and you’re the one who has to deal with it.”

Louis is blinking rapidly and wipes his eyes.

“Sorry. That’s…. I’m glad you’re here. I mean all of you, but mostly you, on my floor. Jack being a wanker isn’t all that happened. Pete, who has been calling scabs poofs and laughing at gays since we were in school together, he came up to me tonight and said that queers can’t be all bad.”

Louis’s silent for a while and they just look at each other, in the dark. Harry puts his hand on Louis’ side where a small strip of skin shows.

“I just never thought they would mix. I went to Manchester and got with men. And then I came back here and was a miner and union member and good son. Everything a good Yorkshire lad should be. Those two parts of me were separate. I like it here, I love my family, I’m part of something. So, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t have everything I had in Manchester. But LGSM coming here – and even the other Harry and his boyfriend they were a couple and they dressed like that in the Miners’ Welfare. Maybe we could win the strike and I could have everything.”

Louis is hopeful, optimistic – Harry’s surprised after the day they’d had.

“I can’t even imagine that – gays in Holmes Chapel.” Louis grins at him and it’s the best feeling in the world.

“I’ll make it happen for you. We’ll do it just like this. But it’ll probably have to be Lesbians and Gays Support the Tories, won’t it?” Harry laughs, much louder than he should. He squawks – it’s embarrassing.

Louis doesn’t tell him to shush though, even though Harry could have woken half the house. He just rolls Harry onto his back.

The first touch of Louis’ lips is amazing. Louis is gentle, but it feels ecstatic. There, in the dark, electricity runs through them everywhere they touch. Their lips meeting burns brightest of all.

Louis’ weight on Harry is overwhelming and intoxicating, even more so when Louis deepens the kiss and mirrors the move by grinding his hips down.

Harry can’t – it’s too much – he’s going to...

Louis stops and sits up. Harry wants to whine, but he’s supposed to be quiet.

“What do you want to do, darling? Because if we keep doing this – I won’t last much longer.”

Do?

Oh – Louis probably wants – that’s what people want. Harry had thought about bringing the condoms and lubrication Nick had given him, but he hadn’t. He should have. He’s an idiot. Louis is probably looking forward to that.

“Hey, Harry” Louis reaches down and touches his cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I didn’t bring condoms. Sorry – do you have...”

“Condoms?” Harry remembers the conversation that they had. Louis doesn’t know anything about the disease. Doesn’t believe in it.

“I just – I should have brought them – this disease…”

“Shhh,” Louis interrupts Harry and puts his fingers on Harry’s lips. “Tell me what you want. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do. And if you want to use condoms, we’ll do that. But it sounds like you don’t want to fuck, so we won’t.”

Harry feels Louis take his finger away and then kiss Harry again. “I’m going to take my top off.”

Louis’ skin appears bit by bit, all grey in the dark, like a photograph.

“Shall I take care of you, love?”

Harry isn’t sure what Louis is asking, but the answer is yes. Louis pulls Harry’s top up and over his head. When he leans forward to kiss Harry again, Harry can feel the warmth of Louis’ body everywhere their skin touches.

“Say if you want me to stop.” Louis says and then his mouth is on Harry’s chest. Harry doesn’t want Louis to stop.

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” Louis is quiet, but Harry can hear every word. “I’ve missed you so much. I just wanted to see you and touch you.”

“You’re – it’s – amazing.” Harry isn’t good at talking like Louis is, but he wants him to know.

Every time Louis moves his mouth, another part of Harry’s body responds in a way he didn’t know he could feel like.

When Louis reaches Harry’s jeans, he undoes the button and fly and pulls them down a little. “You want me to suck you off? I’ve missed your cock.”

“Yes – oh – yes.” How does Louis say things like that? It’s almost more than Harry can manage to say yes.

He feels Louis’ beautiful mouth and the pleasure builds and builds. He remembers, just in time, to tap Louis on the shoulder, but Louis just does something with his tongue that somehow makes Harry feel even better. The pleasure that had been building just explodes.

“Can I?” Harry asks, once he’s recovered.

It seems like a lot of work to get on top of Louis, so they end up with Louis sitting on the bed and Harry between his legs.

As soon as Harry puts his mouth around Louis’ cock, he feels Louis getting even harder. Louis likes this. Harry still isn’t sure what to do, but he takes as much of Louis in his mouth as he can.

The taste and the smell is sweaty and musty. Harry loves it. He has Louis’ cock in his mouth. He needs to remember every sight every sound, every smell – because he is going home the day after tomorrow.

Harry’s jaw is just about to get a bit achy when Louis taps on his shoulder. It had felt so nice to feel Louis’ mouth on him when he came. But the spurt of Louis’ cum is somehow faster than he expects. He ends up coughing and looking a bit like an idiot.

“Sorry. That wasn’t very sexy.” Harry wishes he didn’t feel so unprepared all the time.

“You’re ridiculously sexy, Harry.” Louis replies – and he’s smiling. “Even when you’re coughing. Now get your trousers off and come into bed.”

They snuggle together in Louis’ single bed – Harry loves the feeling of Louis’ chest against his back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring…” Harry feels awkward even saying that much.

“Did you want to fuck me tonight?” Harry realises just how much he does want it. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

Louis is silent like he’s waiting for an answer.

“That sounds amazing – either way, but scary.”

Louis cuddles him even more bringing him in tighter.

“Why scary?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like a big thing and I don’t want to do it wrong. And what Nick’s told me about the new disease is terrifying.”

“If you want to, we can do it.” Louis kisses his neck. “But you keep apologising for things – and you’re so great. I love every moment I get to spend with you. I love touching you. I’m not waiting for you to be someone else and want different things. Please stop apologising. I promise you it’s alright – much better than alright.”

Harry is about to say something when Louis interrupts – “and if you apologise for apologising, I won’t suggest that you turn around and I bring us both off again with my hand.”

So, Harry doesn’t and Louis does.

The next morning Louis gets up to make sure his sisters have breakfast. When Louis comes back, he says that his sisters, Nick, and Douglas are watching Duran Duran on Mike Read’s show. Harry feels sure that Duran Duran isn’t Nick’s sort of music. Should he rescue them?

But Louis says they look like they are having fun and suggests that they give them half an hour. Then he starts kissing Harry. It’s a good three-quarters of an hour before they go downstairs.

Nick, Douglas and the twins are totally absorbed when Louis and Harry come down, don’t even notice them until they bring out a pot of tea. At which point Nick pretends he hates it, but Harry knows better.

Harry isn’t sure what he expected of a picket line, but he wasn’t expecting it to be boring. No-one’s gone back yet at Yorkshire Main, so the pickets are just to make sure that it stays that way.

There are a lot of quiet buildings and machinery behind them. Louis points out the winding tower and the other buildings – he calls them the pithead. They are picketing in front of the entrance way. Picketing apparently means standing, although Louis has an official NUM picket sign. There’s a tent and a fire in a steel drum. They’ve been here for months.

There had been some talk about how best to manage picketing. It ended up with Louis and Stan taking LGSM members down to Yorkshire Main to join the afternoon shift.

“Do we just sit here and wait?” Nick asks. Harry kind of suspects he is figuring out if he can go and snog Douglas.

“Important job this,” Louis says. “Official picket of the NUM, you should be honoured.”

Nick sticks his fingers up towards Louis, and Louis laughs. “You can’t canoodle with your boyfriend on a picket line.  There are rules aren’t there Stan?”

“You remember in Notts, where the guy from Rossington was almost dry humping with some bird. There was a motion about it. No drugs, no alcohol, no sex on the picket line.”

Nick and Douglas seem happy to sit off to the side.

“So, is this all picketing is? Standing? When people were being outraged about it on the news, they made it sound a lot more exciting.” Louis, Stan and other Harry all laugh, Harry feels proud of that.

“Most picketing is more vigorous. We thought we’d ease you into it.”

The sky is clear and although the November sun is weak, it isn’t that cold. Telling stories, or in Harry’s case, listening to stories and later on playing some football (Harry is rubbish, Louis is brilliant like he is at everything else) is a nice way to spend an afternoon. Harry hadn’t expected nice.

A woman comes out from the pit and gives them all a cup of tea. Louis explains that she’s the wife of a deputy and cleans at the club at the pithead.  She has eight brothers who are miners.  Both her and her husband support the strike – she brings tea several times a day.

It starts to get cold once the sun goes in. And at ten to five Stan says “The next shift are coming in a few minutes, you lazy buggers. So, let’s picket proper like.”

Proper picketing involves the same chatting, but standing in a line and no football. Nick and Douglas are separated to ensure respectability.

“Is there a reason you took us all here, rather than a picket where there is action?” Now Nick has stopped paying attention to Douglas, he’s interested in what’s going on.

“This is our local pit. We thought you’d like to see it.” There’s an edge to Louis’ voice, like Nick has figured something out.

“And got nothing at all to do with how we might be received at the other pits?”

“We took the Greenham Common women along to the picket when the very first scabs were going in. But people say things. They call scabs ‘poofs’. No-one would have a problem with you – or they wouldn’t let on. But it’s bad enough listening to that stuff when it’s just me. I didn’t want to hear it with all you here as well. If you want that kind of experience come back and I can arrange it.”

Harry wants to grab Louis’ hand and kiss him, but the new pickets are coming any moment.

“You’re alright, Louis Tomlinson.” Nick says.

There’s Bingo going when they get back to the Miners’ Welfare and Nick calls a round.

That night feels much more relaxed. Harry assumes that people who don’t like them know they are coming and stay away. Lots of the kids he’d seen yesterday come up and say hello and he runs round with them a little bit.

Because it’s much more relaxed, Harry decides to have another beer and another. It’s fun to dance to the music. All music is fun, whatever Nick says. He can’t be with Louis when there are so many people around (that’s why he stopped after several beers), but he can be gay and here. And look at Louis, as long as he isn’t too obvious. Other Harry and his boyfriend are teaching people to dance.

Harry dances with some of the kids, including one of the twins. The other is asleep in a corner.

Louis’ sister Fizzy has cornered Jesse and is presumably interrogating her about feminism.

Harry is sad that Louis can’t dance and that they can’t dance together. But he can see Louis watching. He looks happy when his other sister, Lottie, gets up and dances with a woman with platinum blonde hair.

The entire Tomlinson family walks home together, Harry with them. Louis’ Dad is carrying the sleeping twin. Half-way back the other twin realises that it’s deeply unfair that she has to walk and almost goes on strike herself. Harry gives her a piggyback.

When they get home, the twins are put to bed and everyone else stays up and has a cup of tea. Louis’ Mum checks Harry has everything he needs and he won’t be cold.

And then him and Louis are alone together, with a door closed. They lie down on the bed on the floor.

“I don’t want to go home tomorrow. I don’t want to leave you.” Harry wishes he hadn’t been so direct almost as soon as he’s finished saying it. It’s silly and scary to blurt everything out.

Louis puts his hand on Harry’s face and says, “I don’t want you to leave either. I think about you every day. I think about you being my boyfriend and how I want you here with me.”

“I thought it was just me.” Louis dreams of him? Louis misses him?

“Oh no, of course not.” Louis tells Harry about all the times he’s thought of him.

“I love watching you take photographs. I’ve been watching you all weekend. You better send them to me.”

Harry promises that he will. He tries to explain how much it means to have been here in Louis’ world, but he doesn’t know if he succeeds.

Then they talk of after the strike. Louis could move to Manchester. They could be together.

They talk and get each other off and talk some more and get each other off some more. It’s like a brilliant tantalising night of what being together might feel like. Touching and talking as much as they like.

It doesn’t feel like time is passing. Harry is surprised to hear Louis’ Mum’s alarm clock go off for her early shift. They’ve talked all night. Louis goes down to say hi to his Mum.

Harry lies in Louis’ bed and starts drifting off to sleep. Louis comes back and climbs over Harry, tucks in behind him and cuddles him close.

Harry had thought he’d sleep all the way back to Manchester, given that he’d only got a few hours after Louis’ Mum had gone to work. But his brain is too full. Louis’ littlest sisters had given him a teary farewell and he’d promised to send more stickers. He’d stolen a few more minutes with Louis on the walk back to the Miners’ Welfare. They hadn’t been able to touch and they didn’t repeat any of the scariest things they’d said last night. But they’d had that short walk and told each other how much they’d miss each other.

Harry sits behind other Harry and his boyfriend on the way back. Antonio falls asleep on Harry’s shoulder and it hurts just looking at them. Louis seems to want this just as much as Harry does. All last summer, Harry had thought of coming to art college and joining the Lesbian and Gay Society. He had thought of sex with beautiful men and he’d thought of being more glamourous. He’d thought about having a boyfriend – but it hadn’t been the centre of his dreams. Now it is. Now he is so jealous of Harry and Antonio seeing each other every day and sleeping together at night.

All of it seems so unfair, the muddle of things that are keeping him and Louis apart: the strike, the fact that people can’t know, the specific rooms and streets in Manchester where it’s alright to be gay, and the vast sprawling areas of the country where it’s not.

Harry realises that he’s missed collecting at the co-op this weekend. He wonders if they collected at any other times. He’ll try and find Niall and ask. He’ll make other people from LGSM go collecting with him at least two times this week.

*

> 10 November 1984
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> I miss you. I thought seeing you might make me miss you less, but instead I miss you far more. I like that I know what your house is like now, and the Miners’ Welfare and where you picket. Sometimes I imagine you going about your day. Not like pervy imagining, I just like thinking about where you are (I also like thinking about you naked).
> 
> I developed the photos I took when I was in Yorkshire and took some more of the collections. A couple of pictures had your sisters in them, so I’ve included them because I thought your Mum might like them.
> 
> I got the job at Boots. I’m going to work there every Saturday. It’ll give me a little bit of money over my grant and I may be able to work full-time over summer covering people’s holidays. I’m going to put extra money in the collection tin as soon as I get my first pay. You’ll have to tell me about joining a union.
> 
> My tutor still thinks I am best at light and shade and terrible at people. But I think I am going to do my project on the miners’ strike. Whenever I talk to him, I almost change my mind and go back to do what I should be doing. But then I look at the photos I’ve taken and think about what you said and I don’t go and take photos of buildings, but work on developing the photos I’ve already taken.
> 
> Tell me everything that’s going on in Doncaster. But tell me about you. I imagine you doing everything amazingly: speaking, picketing, you’re even good at football.
> 
> Love Harry

 

> 12 November 1984
> 
> Dear Harry
> 
> Thanks for the pictures. Mum loves them, as usual. I think you’re lucky that we don’t have money for toll calls because of the strike. Otherwise she might ring up Manchester Polytechnic and demand to talk to your tutor and tell them him you’re excellent at capturing people and she knows because you captured her children. That’s what she said when I told her you weren’t sure about taking photos of people.
> 
> You could come visit. If it is your project – come visit and take more photographs. And if it isn’t your project, we could tell everyone it was and you could come anyway.
> 
> Things are going to get worse soon, I think. Rumours are they’ve got enough scabs that they might try sending a van through the picket line. If they did that, then it’ll get very ugly very quickly. There’s a poem “After God had finished the rattlesnake, the toad, and the vampire, he had some awful substance left with which he made a scab. A scab is a two-legged animal with a corkscrew soul, a water brain, a combination backbone of jelly and glue.” And then it goes on to say that no man has a right to scab when there’s a pool of water deep enough to drown himself in. Which is true!
> 
> Everyone here has suffered so much. We’re better off than most, because of Mum’s work, but it’s still really hard. Everyone’s cold all the time. You met Sarah? Who does the kitchen? Her husband’s sick and she’s still out there cooking for everyone else.
> 
> And to undermine all that because you want some money. How could anyone do that? Want more for themselves like that when everyone’s suffering together?
> 
> And if we lose, that’s it, that’s the maddest thing about the scabs. Their jobs will go too. If we lose, all the jobs will go. Working another month now, won’t help in a few years’ time when all the mines are shutting.
> 
> Sorry – I’m going on at you. Our only hope is power cuts this winter and that won’t happen if production starts up in other mines. All this stuff is just round and round in my head all day and everywhere I go, we have the same conversations over and over again
> 
> Thinking about you is the only thing that stops me thinking about the strike. I imagine you in the darkroom, in your room, at the Rem. I imagine you in your classes – but I don’t know what they look like except from TV. I imagine me being with you, making you cups of tea, taking care of you. I remember how beautiful you are and how much I want to touch you. I remember the feel of your cock in my mouth. I miss you and think about you all the time.
> 
> I’m sorry I can’t come visit you. I wish I could.
> 
> Love Louis.

 

> 14 November 1984
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> I really like hearing about the strike. The way you talk about it makes sense to me. It’s so different from what you get in the papers. My parents get The Times. Niall says not to believe a word of it. He says it’s the bosses’ paper.
> 
> I saw that Spare Rib had an article about the strike, so I bought it. I thought maybe that’d be better than The Times. I’ve sent it along for Fizzy – you were saying she liked it. I liked reading about how things were different for women because of the strike. I read the rest of the issue too. Women in Ireland and women being deported – I feel like there’s so much I don’t know.
> 
> Collections aren’t going as well as they were. It’s hard to get people together to do them, and it’s so dark and cold in the evenings. Sometimes people say we should be focusing on the new gay disease. We get more money outside the Co-Op with Niall on Saturday, but I like LGSM and getting money for your pit.
> 
> Could I really come and stay at yours and take more photos? I want to see you and I want to take photos, but I don’t want to put too much on your Mum. My Saturday job makes it hard.
> 
> Nick and Douglas broke up. Well I don’t know if they were together. But Douglas is mad at Nick. Nick is still all about that guy from the Smiths.
> 
> I miss you so much and think about you all the time.
> 
> Love Harry.
> 
> PS sorry my letter isn’t sexier – I love your sexy letters. But I never know what to say back. I think about you all the time and imagine you touching me. I want you inside me.

 

> Dear Harry,
> 
> You are now Fizzy’s favourite person. I read Spare Rib before giving it to Fizzy. Partly to make sure that there wasn’t some sex stuff that Mum was going to freak out about. Also because Fizzy keeps side eyeing me like she’s expecting me to be some sort of male-chauvinist pig – and so I wanted to check I wasn’t. I don’t think I am. I swear she’s read the whole thing at least three times. You might even get a letter from her too. If you do, it’s not even that Mum is making her, she wanted to say thank you.
> 
> It all makes me want to tell Mum. I never thought about telling anyone before the strike. That was all just stuff that stayed in Manchester. Everything was compartmentalised. But to have first the Greenham women and then LGSM come talk at our pit. And seeing people be gay and be lesbians at the Miners’ Welfare and in my home and talking with Mum. It made me want that for me too.
> 
> Dad’s not actually my Dad, I don’t know if I told you that. He’s my step-Dad. Mum had me when she was 19. It was just me and her at first. And we’ve always been so close. It feels like I’m hiding stuff from her and not letting her see bits of me. She likes you and she’s been furious about the people who objected to LGSM. Maybe I could tell her, it would be terrifying, but maybe it would be worth it.
> 
> I’ve never been gay in Edlington – but why can’t I?
> 
> I want to see more of your photos. I love seeing the strike through your eyes. Will you bring them when you come? Come whenever works. It’d probably help if you gave Mum some money for food. If we weren’t sharing, I’d tell you to bring blankets. Socks, bring socks. But come.
> 
> I don’t have any strike news. There’s still the threat that they might bring scabs every day, but they haven’t yet. Just in case, we have full pickets – none of the five people and a football like when you were here.
> 
> Having you here would make everything so much better. And don’t say you’re bad at dirty letters when you write things like that. I want to be inside you so much. I’d be so gentle. I’d make sure it felt good – there’s this place inside that feels amazing. I’d find that with my fingers and with my cock.
> 
> Please come, darling.
> 
> Love
> 
> Louis

*

_15 December 1984_

Louis pulls the string on the heater in the station waiting room and tries to remember the last time he was warm. He knows it probably wasn’t that day in the sun when he’d picketed with Harry, but it feels like it. He should have brought a change of socks. There is no way to be warm, even in front of the heater, when your shoes let in water and the rain gets into your socks.

He thinks about Harry instead. Harry who is coming up by train. His term is over and he has a week off before Christmas. Louis has maybe come to the station a little early, he’s been here an hour, but soon Harry will be here with him – and for ages. He has to go back for work next Saturday, but that’s almost a week. Who cares about the cold, or Christmas, or the picket line when Harry is almost here. (Louis, Louis cares about all those things, but he’s so relieved to have something great).

Louis watches Harry’s train pull into the station. He can’t see Harry at first. And then he sees curls and runs towards their owner. He can’t help himself. He grabs Harry and pulls him into a hug, it’s too much, after all this time, to greet him without touching him.

“Are we alright?” Harry pulls back a bit.

Louis nods “We better stop.” And they break away. Their hug hasn’t overstepped the boundary of mates. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

They start walking down the platform. Not taking each other’s hands.

“I was thinking, if we didn’t have to get back too early, maybe I could take you out?”

“Take me out?” It would be embarrassing to start crying in Doncaster station. “You want to take me out?”

“I got paid today, and I know you haven’t been paid much this year.” Louis laughs at that and Harry looks relieved. Harry was feeling tense about asking him, he mustn’t feel that. “So, I thought I could take you out.”

“I want to kiss you right here. I never thought I could have things like that.” Harry grins.

Louis calls his Mum from a phonebox to tell her they’re not going to be in for tea. Harry asks where they should go.

“Well there are two options. We could go to the shopping centre and see if any of the cafes will serve us before they close. Or there are some pubs nearby. The advantage of the pub is alcohol. The advantage of the shopping centre is there’s a statue of two naked people called The Lovers that people are always sending outraged letters to the paper about.”

“I don’t think that’s even a choice. Take me to this statue,” Harry says.

It’s only a few minutes walk away. Louis hadn’t ever paid that much attention to the statue, just enjoyed the outrage.

“It’s even better than I imagined.” Harry says. “There’s a waterfall, why didn’t you tell me there’s a waterfall? I’m going to take a photo.”

“You could call your project Miners and Lovers.” Louis suggests as Harry takes the lens cap off his camera. “Alternate scenes of tension on the strike with statues of people making love.”

“I only have one statute of people making love though.” Harry really is taking photos.

“Maybe I’ll provide the rest – you can take photographs of me in various stage of undress.”

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.” Louis hadn’t meant it, but now he wants to.

“Well not for display, but maybe. You’ll be processing them so we wouldn’t need to worry about some nosy person being disgusted by us. More importantly, I don’t think we’re going to get any food in here because you’ve spent far too long photographing perverted statues.”

They head to Joplin’s just around the corner. Louis hasn’t had a roast since the twins’ birthday. Before the strike, they’d had roasts every week. It’s a whole quid more expensive than other meals though, so Louis feels bad asking for it.

Harry tells him to get whatever he wants and after checking Louis believes him. Harry looks pleased when Louis says how exciting it is to have a roast, which makes him feel a little less guilty.

“If I’d known you were taking me out, I’d have dressed nice.”

“You look beautiful.”

“It’s funny, we just look like two lads having a pint, but we can play footsie under the table just as if one of us was a girl.”

They talk a bit about hiding and being in plain sight.

“I want to take your hand and let you cop a feel round the corner from the pub for treating me so nice.”

Harry looks slightly alarmed, as anyone would at the idea of snogging another man outside the pub in Doncaster, or anywhere 100 miles in any direction, except Canal Street.

“I know we can’t, I just want to. I will let you cop a feel when we get into my bedroom though.”

“I brought, you know…”

“Did you now? Well, the roast makes more sense. Make sure I’m up for it.” Harry protests that it wasn’t like that.

“I’m just teasing you, love. You don’t need to buy me a roast. I’m easy for you.”

They finish their beer and catch a bus home.

When they get home, everyone is watching a Carry On movie set during the French Revolution. It would be both rude and obvious to disappear into Louis’ room immediately. Daisy gives Harry her seat. Louis gets a blanket and sits on the floor next to Harry. Conserving heat requires Louis to snuggle up to his boyfriend in front of his family.

The movie doesn’t make a lot of sense. There’s sword fighting and innuendo and an explosion.

After the movie, Louis’ Mum makes a pot of tea and everyone wants to talk to Harry. The twins climb all over him before being sent for their baths. Lottie and Fizzy don’t even whine about wanting to watch Dynasty, which shows how special he is as a visitor. Fizzy wants to talk to him about feminism, even though Louis had read that issue too. Even Louis’ Dad seems to like Harry being there.

“I have a question, I didn’t want to ask while the twins were here,” Fizzy says. Was there something in that copy of Spare Rib that he shouldn’t have given her? “The movie, some of those jokes are about gays, aren’t they? And are we supposed to think some of the bad guys were gay? Is it rude of us to watch it in front of Harry?”

Harry puts his hand on Louis’ leg under the blanket. Both Louis’ Mum and Dad are struggling at what to say.

“Some people in LGSM don’t like movies like that.” Harry starts speaking in that slow way of his. Treating Fizzy as if it was a perfectly reasonable question. “They think they promote stereotypes and make fun of gay people. But when I saw these movies when I was a kid, they made me realise that not everyone is the same.”

“Yeah, because in normal movies everyone’s straight. And that’s not what it’s really like in the world is it – so they’re just as bad.” Lottie also joins in.

Louis tries to keep his face neutral. He blinks rapidly and puts his hand on top of Harry’s hand.

The conversation drifts off after that. And Louis sits there – hand on Harry’s. His Mum and Dad hadn’t tutted or shushed Fizzy and they’d appeared interested in what Harry had to say.

Louis’ Mum does the hot water bottles.

“Harry love, if you want a bath, could you go now while the water’s still hot?” Baths, Louis needs to talk to Harry, and not around his family.

“I’ll take his bag up to my room and get him all settled.” Harry looks a bit bemused, but follows Louis to the top of the house.

Louis closes the door, “You should have a bath, or I should, or both. If we want to...later. It’s good to be clean.” Louis isn’t good at talking about this stuff.

Harry figures it out anyway. “Both, maybe both? That way we have, um, options.”

Louis thinks it shows what a kind and loving boyfriend he is that he tells Harry to go first while the water is cleaner and warmer. He almost says that, but it’s even more kind and loving not to draw attention to his generosity.

He lies on his bed while Harry has a bath. Despite the innuendo of the jokes, or perhaps because of Fizzy’s desire to analyse the political appropriateness of that innuendo, the warm worked up feeling he’d had ever since he saw Harry had faded while he was with his family. But now lying here on the bed it all comes back.

Harry appears with a towel around his waist and that just makes things so much worse.

“Can you close the door because I need to blow you right now.” Louis says it quietly, but Harry clearly hears.

“Yes, alright, that’d be, yes – thanks.”

Harry is already half-hard and the feeling of him getting harder in Louis’ mouth is amazing. Harry’s smell and Harry’s taste are so erotic. Louis could get lost in them, but he concentrates on getting Harry off.

Afterwards, Louis gives Harry a filthy kiss; Harry would be able taste himself on Louis’ lips. Every moment with Harry is hotter than the last.

Louis deals with the lost time by having the shortest bath ever. Just long enough to make sure that he is alright where it matters. Being on strike means he is always cleaner than he used to be anyway.

They head downstairs in pajamas – nothing but their feelings inside to suggest they aren’t two normal mates.

“What time are you picketing tomorrow, you two? Do you want to stay up and watch Match of the Day?” Louis’ Dad makes another pot of tea and apologises for the lack of beer.

After an evening of tea and family and football, they go to bed.

They get under the covers of the mattress on the floor. It’s all cosy from the hot water bottle. Getting proper warm before taking their pajamas off seems like a good idea.

“I think I’m going to tell Mum.” Louis had meant to say something far sexier.

“That’s so brave. I mean, it seems like she’d be alright, but it’s still so brave.”

“Could I do it the day before you leave? So that if I have to go, I can go with you.” Louis hears his voice break a little bit at that.

“Oh Louis.” Harry wriggles both arms free and holds Louis tight. “Of course, I’m sure it won’t be necessary, but of course. You’re so amazing and brave and strong.” The words Harry is saying don’t aren’t words that describe Louis, but he still likes them.

Harry tells Louis about his photograph, and Louis is so proud that Harry is taking photos of the strike despite what his tutor says. He tries to tell Harry that, but no words can express it enough – so he ducks under the covers, pulls up Harry’s pajama top and starts kissing his tummy.

Louis undoes Harry’s buttons one by one and slowly kisses his way up Harry’s body to his mouth.

“Can we – I wanked to that letter you sent every day for the last month.” Harry says.

“Whatever you want.” Louis kisses Harry’s neck.

“I want – I’m just a little scared.” That breaks Louis away from his mission to taste every bit of Harry’s skin.

“Oh sweetheart.” He takes Harry’s hand and sits up, straddling Harry so he won’t be distracted (he’s still a little distracted – but they both have pajama pants on so he can ignore everything else). “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt and I’m afraid of AIDS.” Louis leans forward and kisses Harry briefly – he’s so brave to just say what he’s afraid of like that.

“We can use a condom.” Is that the right thing to say? Louis still isn’t sure what to make of AIDS. But if Harry’s scared.

“I brought some. Nick made me promise never to fuck without one.” Well that’s decided then. It’s what Harry wants. “We also need to – like – some of the stuff people use is bad for condoms. Nick also gave me some of the safe stuff.”

Louis has no idea what Harry is talking about. Stuff people use?

He realises what Harry meant and feels terrible for a moment – he hadn’t even thought about that. Louis’d only ever had sex with people who knew far more about what they were doing than he did. He was that person for Harry. He needed to do it right.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do? Will that make you less afraid?” Louis had been afraid and it had hurt; he wants it to be different for Harry.

Harry nods.

“So first I’m going to give you a blowjob and make you come. That way you’ll feel nice and relaxed. Then I’ll get my hands all over your arse – touching you like I’ve always wanted to. We’ll kiss and when we’re both overwhelmed with how turned on we are, I’ll get lots of the fancy non-condom damaging stuff you brought and then gently I’ll push my finger inside you. Did you try doing it to yourself?”

Harry nods. Louis can feel him get harder and harder. The more he knows Harry likes it, the bolder he gets.

“It’ll be much better when it’s my fingers. I’ll be so gentle and slow. And if you don’t like it, or if it hurts, I’ll stop. If you like it, I’ll slowly build up until you’re feeling open and loose. And there’s a place inside you that feels amazing and I’ll find it.”

Louis grinds backwards against Harry’s hard-on, but doesn’t take his eyes off Harry.

“Then I’ll get the condom and I’ll be so hard, because you’re so beautiful and fingering you is hot – I’ll roll the condom on my cock. Then, when you’re loose and ready, I’ll push my way in so slowly. I’ll be inside you. Slow, fast, hard. Whatever you like. Then I’ll put my hand on your cock and stroke you in time with our rhythm ‘til we both come.”

Louis rocks backwards as he says all this – he can tell Harry enjoys him talking.

Then he starts as he said he would – with taking Harry in his mouth.

He’s not as suave as he made himself sound. They keep trying new positions, there’s more reapplying of lubrication, and it takes him a while to find that place that feels so good. But everything about the reality is so much hotter than his imagination. He keeps on talking to Harry, telling him how great he is and making sure he likes what Louis is doing. Harry makes noises as well – not often words, but every moan and whimper turns Louis on more.

Then Louis’ inside Harry and it’s amazing in ways he hadn’t known were possible. Both the sensation of it and the Harry of it. It’s awkward again, as they try to find a rhythm, but they do.

It’s the feeling of Harry coming in his hand that tips Louis over the edge.

They both lay there panting, leaning against the bed.

Louis stands up and then pulls Harry down on top of him as he lies, or collapses really, onto the mattress on the floor. He feels Harry’s back against his chest and whispers in Harry’s ear how amazing he is, how perfect.

“I want to go get a warm flannel to clean you up.” Someone had done that for Louis once and it had made him feel taken care of. “But that involves going downstairs and not touching you. I could use a sock – it’s clean or I could go and get a flannel. Next time I promise I’ll think of this before we start.”

Louis just lies there revelling in an idea of a next time.

“Use my t-shirt.” Harry had suggested on putting one of his t-shirts on the bed before they’d started so Jay wouldn’t have to do any extra laundry (and Louis wouldn’t have to explain anything). Harry is perfect and Louis tells him so again. He uses the t-shirt and his mouth and cleans Harry up good.

Then they both get into Louis’ bed. They don’t really talk, just enjoy touching each other and drift off to sleep.

*

Harry wakes up slowly, until he remembers he had sex last night. Then he is totally aware of his surroundings and everywhere his and Louis’ bodies touch. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel, but he thinks he likes it. He is proper gay and proper Louis’ and it had been good, it had been so good. He keeps coming back to them having sex. He’d had Louis inside him.

He realises Louis is awake when he feels one of Louis’ hands in his hair. Harry rolls around – in a shuffly kind of a way otherwise he would fall off the bed – and then he’s facing Louis.

“Hey darling,” Louis kisses him. “Are you… Are you good?”

“So good.” Harry replies. “Last night was amazing.” He takes Louis’ hand and interlaces their fingers. Harry wants to do nothing but tell him how amazing that sex was (and maybe have more sex) for the rest of his life.

“It was amazing for me too. It’s so different from anything else I’ve experienced and I want to be sure you know – I don’t want you to doubt.” Louis pauses as if he was finding the right words. “I love you Harry. And I don’t want to be scared of saying that – or feeling that.”

Harry flops onto his back. Louis loves him.

“I wanted you to know that I’ll love you and take care of you.”

“I know.” Harry says, because he has to say something.

“I hope that wasn’t too much. I just feel so much for you – I want to give you some of those feelings so they can protect you from all harm. I know it doesn’t work like that, but that’s what I want.”

Harry kisses Louis. He loves Louis – and he will tell him before he goes. But he doesn’t want it to sound like he’s just saying it back. He wants to revel in what Louis said to him for now.

And they do with, playful kisses and touches.

They clean each other up with Harry’s t-shirt again before going out to face Louis’ family. They’re definitely running late by the time they leave the house.

Harry follows Louis to the pithead. It feels different from last time they’d picketed, almost from the minute they set off, and not just because it’s cold and gloomy. There is huge tension.

When they get to the pit, there must be at least a hundred men there, and an equal number of police.

Shift change isn’t for a few hours, Louis says, but sometimes the police bring it early.

Harry asks someone with an official picket sign if he can take photographs. He is glad he has something to do. Lots of people just stand there looking cold and tense. Waiting.

Harry tries to capture the way people are together. One person pours tea for another. He introduces himself to people and asks about them.

“Aren’t you going to take photos of the pigs?” Louis has obviously been watching him work.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Harry doesn’t really know.” They’re so closed off and official. I don’t want my photos to be about them. I want them to be about you.” He means both Louis and the miners.

“Scabs are coming! Scabs are coming!” A young man, who must be a lookout, is running back. Everyone tenses. Harry photographs the man and also the difference in people’s posture. Everyone links arms and physically blocks the pit entrance. People start shouting – mostly ‘Fucking Scabs’.

It isn’t a normal van. It’s heavy duty. Loads more police come from nowhere and just start hitting people over and over again. They hit people’s arms and heads. The police open up a gap wide enough for the van to drive through, and it does. But they keep hitting people, just for existing.

Then the extra police are leaving. Harry realises he’d stopped taking photographs – he had been too stunned at the violence. One police officer brings his baton down hard on a young man’s shoulder as he’s leaving. The man is just standing there. It’s like that officer hasn’t had enough violence and needs to hurt one more person. Harry does photograph that, and the people coming to each other’s aid. He watches people assess their injuries, figure out who needs to go back to the Miners’ Welfare.

Harry’s seen Louis; he knows Louis’s alright enough to be moving. When Harry asks him how he’s doing, Louis just replies: “All fine, a bit bruised, but they’ll fade. Or rather be replaced with new ones.”

Harry changes film. Not all the conversations are about injuries. People are talking about who is in the van. Trying to figure out if there are new scabs. After a discussion of facial hair, everyone agrees that it’s the same thirteen people. Not enough to run a mine.

“Do you want to come back to the Miners’ Welfare with the injured?” Louis asks him. “There’ll be more to photograph there, and we can come back for shift change.”

When he gets to Miners’ Welfare, Harry goes to the kitchen to say hello to Sarah, take a few more photographs and give a hand. He also takes some photographs of people cleaning and binding wounds.

He’s brought some photos, so he can have a mini exhibition here. He doesn’t just want to steal people’s images off to Manchester. He finds Paul, who says that will be fine, but he can’t sort anything out at the moment. Harry goes back to the kitchen and does some more chopping.

Louis finds him. “Wandering everywhere, you are. I have the materials for your first exhibition.” Louis has found him a board that he can stick his photos to and lean against the wall. Harry can’t kiss Louis, or even hug him.

Louis looks on as he puts up the photographs – he loves everything and sees what Harry is trying to do. They end up with two sections – one is just the photos that they like the most and the other tells a story. There are photographs of people collecting money, then bringing the money to the Miners’ Welfare, of groceries being unloaded and cooked and then food being eaten. Harry sticks up the sign he’d made back in Manchester ‘Solidarity from Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners’.

Sarah comes out and looks at it, drying her hands on a tea towel. She gives Harry a nod and quickly returns to the kitchen when she sees that Harry showed the cooking.

“Thanks lad,” An older man says to Harry, “This should be recorded.”

Fizzy and Lottie both come to the Miners’ Welfare after school. Fizzy for a women’s meeting and Lottie because she cuts kids hair for free afternoon a week – her boss lets her borrow the equipment. According to Louis, Lottie listens to what kids say about what haircuts they want, rather than what their parents say, which has caused a few issues, but free is free. Both girls love the photos of themselves on the board.

That night when Louis asks Harry what he wants, Harry feels like there’s an edge to the question. The question is does Harry want to fuck Louis? And he does – but, but, but, but…

“I’ve never – I don’t know how – I might not be good.” Louis shushes him and gives him a kiss.

“You don’t have to want to, darling.” Harry still hasn’t got used to the thrill of Louis calling him darling. “But I would really like it – I’d like you – not some imaginary super experienced you, but actual you.”

How does Louis know exactly what Harry’s afraid of and how to make it better?

Louis feels amazing around Harry’s fingers and indescribable around his cock. At times Harry feels like he’s awkward or got the wrong rhythm, but Louis keeps telling him how great he is.

The next few days follow the same pattern. Harry and Louis spend some time on the picket line and some time at the Miners’ Welfare. People like his little exhibition. He gets invited to people’s homes to take photos there. He takes roll after roll of film, and is grateful for his staff discount.

In the evenings, after they leave the Miners’ Welfare, they usually spend some time being cosy with Louis’ family. But then it’s just the two of them, in Louis’ room. They talk in the dark, they kiss, they touch. Mouths, hands, cocks and arses – it’s all brilliant at night and again the next morning. It almost feels normal, even though each beautiful night means there’s one less to go.

Louis takes Harry to Stan’s on Thursday, the day before he is going to leave. Louis explains that Stan’s family are in a much worse way than the Tomlinsons. They have several family members on strike, but his Mum has only found work for one day a week. In their living room they have a ‘they shall not starve’ poster – Harry asks them about it. They haven’t starved, Stan’s Mum says. They are hungry sometimes, but not starved.

“And it wouldn’t matter if we did. Nobody would go back.”

Harry wants to do something more than take photos. When he gets back to Manchester, he needs to collect more.

Stan and Louis are heading to the picket line, but Harry is going to go to the welfare first. The Christmas preparations are a lot of work. There are toys from France and chickens from Cornwall. Everyone’s so determined that the kids aren’t going to miss out.

“We can go back after picketing, as well and help out,” Stan says. “It’s quite fun organising all the toys – it’s like we’re all Father Christmas.”

“I am always deeply tempted to play with the toys myself,” Louis says. “I think Sam knows.”

“Thanks for taking photos at ours, Harry.” Stan puts his arm ‘round Harry’s shoulder affectionately. “I think what Mum’s doing – she deserves to have that seen.”

There’s a noise of a car going very fast. Harry hasn’t heard anything like it since he got here. There aren’t that many cars on the village roads – no-one can afford petrol. There’s a squeal of brakes and people in helmets are jumping out. Harry’s arm hurts. He falls to the ground.

There’s some shouting and some scuffling and he’s being kicked and then they leave and drive off again.

“Fuck you! You fucking wankers!” Louis yells after the passing van. “Get a decent job, you motherfucking asshole motherfuckers. Fuck you! Fuck you! Dirty fucking pigfucking pigs.”

That was the police. And there’s just him and Louis now. They took Stan.

Harry touches Louis on the shoulder.

“Lou,” Harry probably shouldn’t hug Louis, but he does anyway. “What happened?” He makes himself let go.

“It’s a snatch. There’s too many of us to arrest people on the picket line. So they target people when they’re just on the street. They’ll claim that he did something days ago that justifies all this. And I’ll have to tell his Mum.”

Louis sits there and Harry doesn’t know what to do.

“Well there’s nothing for it. We have to go tell his Mum and then the welfare.” Louis pushes himself up and walks back the way they came.

Harry feels like an intrusive observer. Stan’s Mum is furious and worried. She comes with them to the welfare, so she can get a lift to the police station.

While they’re waiting for Paul to find a car, one of the older women looks at Harry and Louis’ injuries – it’s just bruising.

Paul drives them into Doncaster and drops them off at the police station – he is going to the NUM offices to get someone with a legal background.

“I’m going to go in and give them what for, Harry. You can take photos of me if you want.” It feels like the only thing he can do is what Stan’s mother asks.

She yells at the officer to give her back her son. And then she sits down and waits. Harry and Louis wait with her.

Harry realises that they’ve been here hours and they haven’t had anything to eat. Him and Louis go and get some sandwiches and bring them back. He wishes he’d thought of buying food earlier. After they eat all the sandwiches, he goes and buys some more for Stan, for when he gets out.

Paul comes with someone from NUM. He tells them the charges are reasonably serious, not just obstruction, and so Stan might not get out tonight.

Harry and Louis decide to catch a bus home. Louis is supposed to have been there for the girls this afternoon, and they are already late. Louis made Mrs Lucas promise she’d bring Stan by when they get out. Harry gives her some more change so she can call or maybe get a cup of tea.

On the bus back, Louis explains a bit more about what happened. Harry hadn’t realised how common it is.

“I’m scared that’ll happen to you. Nobody would even tell me.”

“They would you know. I’m telling Mum tonight.”

“Even after all that?” Harry feels tears in his eyes – Louis is so brave.

Louis apologises to the twins. As various family members come home, he lets them know what happened.

Lottie starts the tea. Louis tells her “Don’t cook Mum’s, I’ll wait up for her.”

Harry gets straight in the bath after the twins, since no-one else wants the water. He is sore and tired and wants to wash the day away.

Louis gets a call from Stan’s Mum about 9 o’clock. The NUM people had persuaded her to go home. He’s not going to get out tonight.

They go up to their room as soon as Stan’s Mum has called. Louis packs a few things into a rucksack. Harry makes sure everything he brought is packed away.

They cuddle together and don’t really talk. It’s all too much for that.

At ten-thirty Louis begins checking his watch every five minutes. Soon it’s more often than that.

Harry gives Louis a brief kiss.

“I love you Louis. You’re so brave, and I don’t just love you because you’re brave, but I’m often overwhelmed about how brave you are. All I want is to be with you always.”

Harry kisses Louis again.

“Your Mum is amazing and she loves you. I hope it’ll be fine, but if not, you’ve got me.”

Louis is crying. That’s not what Harry wants. He wipes Louis’ tears away.

*

Louis puts the kettle on so he can make a pot of tea and have it all nice and ready for Mum when she comes in. The buzz of Harry loving him is all mixed up with the sickening nerves of what might happen next and the horrible reality of what’s already happened today. He doesn’t know what to feel, what to do.

He puts the frying pan on. Lottie’d put aside sausages earlier to make fresh. He’ll refry the boiled potatoes and maybe do some beans. He checks the kettle – it hasn’t boiled. He gets out a tin of beans. Maybe he should wait until Mum gets home before he opens the tin. She might not be very hungry and he shouldn’t waste food. He puts the tin back in the cupboard.

He checks the kettle, it still hasn’t boiled, but the frying pan is looking quite hot. Louis looks at the clock and turns the frying pan off. She won’t even have left work yet. He gets the tin of beans back out of the cupboard, because if she wants some it should be there.

He gets a chair, goes to the pantry, gets down the bottle of whisky that is kept up there and glugs back some of it. Fuck whisky is disgusting. He puts the whisky bottle back and the chair away.

It’s 11 o’clock. She will be leaving work now. He puts the frying pan back on to heat. He’ll cook her a nice meal. He cuts up the boiled potatoes into slices and puts them and the sausages into the pan. They don’t hiss – the pan probably wasn’t hot enough.

The kettle! It must have boiled. Louis fishes a couple of bags out of the tin and pours hot water over them. He rummages through the third drawer down where the tea towels are and finds a tea cosy shaped like a pig. He puts it on the teapot. Usually tea never stays in the pot long enough to need a cosy.

The sausages are hissing. Louis turns them, and the potatoes. He gets frozen peas out of the freezer and pours some into a pot, with just boiled water to follow. He can cook. He is cooking three different things at once. It’s going alright. Or at least not disastrous. He should probably turn the heat down on the frying pan and put a plate on top of it. That’s what Mum does if Dad is late.

Louis stands at the stove without anything to do and suddenly he feels a little woozy. He grabs the side. Maybe he should find a mug for Mum’s tea. And pour a cup of tea for himself.

Just as he is finishing pouring the tea Mum comes in. “Hi love,” she gives him a hug. “You didn’t need to stay up and do my tea.”

“I wanted to.” Louis brings Mum’s plate to the table and then gets the teapot.

‘Sit down,’ he tells himself. Sit down like things are normal’. And after a deep breath he manages it.

“Stan was snatched today.” He knows telling her that will delay everything, but he has to say it.

When she’s done with questions about Stan, she asks about the family, how they’re doing. And then – “Where’s Harry – did he take lots of photographs? I want him to have enough photos so that he doesn’t use the ones of me, because I’m sure there are more important things in this strike than my wrinkles.” Mum emphasises her point by waving a piece of sausage at him. He’d forgotten the sauce. He should have got her sauce.

“He’s asleep. I think the girls wore him out a bit.” His mouth is working. Words are coming out. Just not the ones he needs to say.

He is glad he brought his tea over – it’s something to do with his hands.

“No wonder. You should have warned him to tell them to sod off when they get too much. And how are you, love? You alright? It must have been scary – is that all that’s up?”

She’s guessed. Waiting up for her to return from an evening shift has always been the best way to talk to her without the girls distracting. He wishes it wasn’t so obvious.

“You know what group Harry’s with, right Mum?”

“The gays? Have the girls been rude? Jesus, you’d think they’d learned respect for people showing solidarity. You tell them off.”

“No, Mum, the girls are fine. It’s…” He can never take it back. If he says it, he can never take it back. He thinks of the rucksack packed upstairs. Maybe he should put it off one more night.

“Love?” Mum puts her hand on his arm and he wouldn’t be able to pretend things were normal now anyway, because he is going to cry.

He thinks of what Harry said. Harry loves him. He takes a gulp of tea.

“Me too, Mum. I’m gay too, Mum. I’m gay with Harry. He’s my boyfriend.”

He’s crying now, snotty, noisy crying. And Mum isn’t saying anything. He can’t look at her, doesn’t want to know.

“Love,” she puts her hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to go and sit on the sofa, where it’s more comfortable. Come on love.”

She leads him over to the sofa and he sits down. Still crying. “Wait a sec,” she disappears, but just for a minute and comes back with tissues. She sits next to him and pulls him into her in a cuddle, like he is much littler than he is.

She doesn’t say anything though.

Slowly, he stops crying and she wipes his face and his nose – telling him ‘fnuf’ like he’s three.

“Mum – what’s – you’re not saying anything. Can I still live here? Is it alright? Am I…” The question implied is more than enough so he tails off.

“Oh Boo-Bear,” she holds him tighter. “Of course you can stay. Of course I still love you.” She pauses as if she is trying to figure out what to say. “It might have bothered me more before. All I wanted for you was a secure job and to find someone to love and make your own family. You’ve fought so hard and been so brave and they’re still going to take the job away from you.”

Here, emotionally drained and in the dark, he knows she is right. That they aren’t going to win.

“How can I be upset that you’ve found someone to love, a good decent boy, who has done so much to support us. I’d be delighted if Lottie found a boy like him in a few years. They’ve taken so much from us and they’ve taken even more from you. They’ve taken your entire future. How can I be unhappy about you and Harry? I’ve seen how happy he makes you and how he looks at you. It’s not what I expected, or wanted, or dreamed for you, but compared to everything else that has happened this year. How can I mind?”

She’s crying too. He wishes he hadn’t made her sad, but it feels alright.

He snuggles into her and she cuddles him some more. She talks about how much she’d liked the group that had come from Manchester.

“I felt bad then. I know I’ve said and thought things over the years. But here they were, for us. It seems so silly to have a problem with a man wearing an earring when Thatcher exists. I heard Daisy saying something rude and Lottie telling her off. It made me feel glad then. That maybe my kids aren’t as silly as I had been.”

“If I wanted to, would you mind – could I tell the girls?”

“Oh, love, of course – I mean if you’re to be – if you are – you need to be who you are to them. You shouldn’t have to hide.”

Louis thought he was all cried out, but he isn’t. It doesn’t matter if he’s crying though. Mum is willing to hold him and tell him he is alright. Crying a bit is alright.

“I guess there’s no point trying to persuade you that he should sleep on the couch at this point?”

Louis had hoped Mum wouldn’t think that through.

She laughs at him – he must look pretty guilty.

“I don’t mind what you get up to love. I just feel like I’m probably losing an argument with Lottie in a couple of years. And unlike you she can get pregnant.”

“Sorry, Mum. We could pretend for a bit longer if that’d help.”

“No – I don’t want you pretending if you don’t have to. I mean – it’s up to you – I won’t tell anyone.”

She tells Louis the story of his birth, again. How people tried to make her hide and give him up.

“I fought so hard for you, baby, and I love you so much. So many people told me I should be ashamed of myself, of loving you. That I wasn’t allowed to love you and that I had to let someone else love you instead. And they were all wrong. You’re perfect. And if other people say you’re not alright because of the sex you have or the people you love, then they’re my enemies. Because I’m on your side love.”

She holds him as he cries and cries and cries. He didn’t know how scared he’d been until he doesn’t need to be scared anymore. Eventually she gets up and brings the teapot in its pig tea cosy over and pours them each another cup of tea.

“Can you tell Dad?” This is enough for now – and he doesn’t want to keep it from Dad, but he can’t tell him. Wants Mum to sort that for him.

“You sure? I don’t have to tell him, if you don’t want me to.”

“I do want him to know. I just -” Feelings and Dad don’t really mix. And this way he avoids them.

“Course love. Is your Harry asleep? Or did you just say that?” God – he’s forgotten about actual Harry, when the concept of Harry had been so large. He stands up. His legs feel slightly woozy.

“No, I should go see him. He’s been waiting to see how it went. We packed a bag just in case.”

Mum pulls him back onto her lap. “Listen here love. That would never have happened. Even before the strike, when I got a sense of how stupid I was. You would have always been welcome here. The only people unwelcome in this house are scabs.”

He stays there, just for a moment. Suddenly everything feels normal. Not a huge new revelation or everything changing, but here on Mum’s lap and the only thing that could ever get him kicked out of the house he would never do.

“Come on love – I’ll pop in and say night to Harry. Make sure he knows he doesn’t need that bag.” She pushes him up. She makes him drink some water before he goes to bed, tells him he’ll be dehydrated from all that crying.

He tip-toes up the stairs and gently pushes the door open to his room in case Harry has fallen asleep. He hasn’t, of course. He immediately looks up, and Louis smiles at him so he’ll know everything is alright.

Then Mum pokes her head around the door. “I just wanted to let you know I’m glad you’re here Harry. Sleep well.”

She closes the door quietly behind herself and is gone. The room is dark again.

Louis climbs over Harry and gets under the covers. He pulls Harry into him so they can snuggle properly.

“I’m sorry you were waiting in the dark. You could have had the light on.”

Harry wriggles out of his grip, rolls over and looks at Louis.

“That’s what you’ve got to say to me? After all that? That I shouldn’t be in the dark.”

“But you shouldn’t.” His feet have got cold even with his slippers, so he tries to find the hot water bottle. He doesn’t think now would be a good time to try and warm them up on Harry’s legs. “Sorry – it’s just all a bit – do you want me to tell you about it?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” No – shit – that’s not what he means at all. Harry isn’t even looking at him now.

“Love, of course I want to tell you it.” He kisses Harry’s cheek, because he hasn’t kissed him yet and he is so close. “I was just feeling bad about leaving you alone in the dark all worried, and it’s a bit jumbled in my head.”

Harry kisses him properly “But it’s alright, yeah?”

“I think so. At first, she didn’t say anything and I was so scared. But then she just said nice things. That she loved me and anyone who said I was wrong was her enemy.” Harry is crying. Louis wriggles his left arm free so he can cuddle Harry properly.

“It’s just confusing, because I know that’s not all she thinks. I think I was about 13 and they were discussing changing the law so the age was the same – 16 rather than 21. And I just remember Mum and Dad talking about it – and she was so angry. She said that those posh good for nothings in the House of Lords were maybe worth sticking around if they’d protect boys. And I already knew that she was talking about me.”

He feels Harry’s hand on his face – would he ever stop crying? “You didn’t say. You’re so brave. I’m so glad. And maybe that just means that other stuff, it didn’t mean as much to her as you.”

“She said that you guys had helped – coming up here. I reckon it was that Nick with his bingo calls. And you, of course, being so lovely. I don’t think it would have been the same last year.”

Harry kisses away some of the tears on his face.

“She even said I could tell my sisters. I just asked because it just seemed so unreal. I asked the question I thought she’d say no to. But instead she was just worried that Lottie would notice that we were sharing a bed and demand the same one day.”

They lie there, in silence. Harry looks like he is still crying a little bit. “Are you sure you’re alright? Are you thinking of your family?” Louis feels like he should feel guilty. He’d left Harry in the dark and things for him are just as before. But Louis doesn’t really have space for all his feelings.

Harry nods “A little. I can’t imagine ever being as brave as you. But I hope I am one day.”

“I promise I’ll wait for you like this, if you ever want me to.”

They’re silent for a bit, both almost drifting to sleep. Louis whispers, “Thank you, thank you so much. I would never, without you.”

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he isn’t sure he wants to get out of bed. Does he want to see Mum? Then he remembers Stan and untangles himself from Harry. He’ll be brave today. He finds pen and paper, and scribbles a note of love that he’ll post to Harry later.

“Morning, love. Do you want a cup of tea?” Mum acts normal, but Louis isn’t able to. He needs her to cuddle him, reassure him again that things are fine. She seems to understand.

“I love you, my boy. Don’t ever doubt that.” Louis tears up a little as he nods into her.

“Harry’s not awake yet, but I’m going to suggest we go into Doncaster quite early and see if we can find Stan.”

He hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t wanted to spend Harry’s last day together in a police station in Doncaster. He had had a little bit of a plan. It wasn’t a good plan – the Museum was the only place he could think of taking Harry in winter with no money. But it was a plan.

Harry doesn’t complain though. He’s worried about Stan too. They pack up all of Harry’s stuff. Harry even leaves a note for Louis’ family saying goodbye and thank you.

“No wonder Mum didn’t mind me bringing a pervert home – you’re better than a girlfriend would ever be.”

They catch a bus into town and walk to the police station. Stan’s Mum assures them that she had gone home overnight, but she’s already back waiting. The man from NUM has got the police to promise Stan would be released today, but there’s a lot of today left

Harry buys sandwiches at lunchtime. Stan’s Mum calls Harry a good lad, and she’s not wrong. They can’t really talk much with her there, or there is a lot they can’t talk about. Louis gets Harry to tell him about his photography plans and developing the pictures. It’s lovely to listen to Harry talk.

Harry is on the 7pm train. They were supposed to have enough time that they could have tea together. Louis feels terrible leaving before Stan gets out, but Harry needs to eat and Louis desperately wants some time with him before he leaves. Harry suggests they get fish and chips, bring back a portion for Stan’s Mum, and then Louis could walk him to the train station. Harry is so clever.

They eat their fish and chips in the railway station waiting room, taking turns to pull the string on the heater.

It tastes so good. Louis feels like he’s appreciating every flake of fish, every bit of batter, every bite of chips – here with Harry.

“Sorry your last day has been like this,” he says as he finishes off the last of his chips.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m with you.” Harry replies.

Louis notices the bottom of Harry’s t-shirt underneath his jersey. “Harry, is that the shirt I think it is?” Harry’s wearing the shirt that they’d been using to wipe up cum all week and Louis has only just realised.

Harry goes pink. “I wanted to wear it back to Manchester.”

“Jesus Christ Harry.  That’s the hottest – it’s just the hottest – ever.” Louis couldn’t really form words or thoughts. “Can we? Come…”

Louis headed out of the waiting room, down the stairs, along the tunnel, out of the station. Harry was following. He could think of one place that might be alright.  It was a bad idea, but he desperately wanted to do it anyway.  He headed along the road and into the shopping centre, up to the second floor, into a far corner and they were in the men’s toilets, alone.

“Can I blow you Harry? You’re so filthy and so hot.  We don’t have to though – not if you don’t want to.”

“Fuck Louis I really want to.”  Harry backs into one of the stalls, pulling Louis behind him and locking the door when they were both in the cubicle.

They kiss then, hot and frantic, Louis puts his hands up under Harry’s shirt. He can feel the stiff patches where it’s dried and that only make Louis more frantic.  He drops down to his knees and undoes Harry’s jeans.

Finally, he gets his mouth on Harry, who is so hard and his cock is so amazing.  Louis goes straight for it, taking Harry down as far as he can. 

After what feels like a very short amount of time, Louis comes down his throat.  Then he sticks his hand down Louis pants and brings him off almost instantly.

“There,” said Harry, “now you’re wearing cum as well.”

Filthy, filthy, filthy, Louis could not be happier. 

They quickly tidy each other up and then Harry leaves the stall first, then Louis.  They meet back at the railway station waiting room.

Harry has this big grin on his face. He’ll be going back to Doncaster covered in cum and knowing just how much he turns Louis on. That’s what Louis wants, for Harry to know how hot he is and how loved.

They enjoy these last fifteen minutes together.

They can’t kiss each other goodbye, or even touch. Louis just waves as Harry gets on the train and watches until it disappears off into the distance.

Stan gets out half an hour after Louis gets back to the station.

Stan’s Mum hugs him and checks him over. Then him and Louis hug and it’s so good to see Stan again. A little bit of Louis is thinking about how careful he’d been not to touch another man just an hour before.

“Did they feed you – we’ve got some sandwiches?” Harry’d bought extra before he left – they’d decided that fish and chips might be well cold before Stan got out.

Stan rings the Doncaster NUM with all the details from a pay phone. The NUM man had left money with his Mum for a call.

Now they’re on a bus back home.

“He’s good, your lad is.” Stan says to Louis, and Louis doesn’t even mind that Stan’s Mum probably heard, or what she thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most ridiculous question asked in writing this chapter: "I'm basically trying to figure out if Louis might have anything he could use as a cum towel. They're having sex in Louis' house where he lives with his Mum, who does all the laundry. And it's month nine of the strike so I can't imagine he has any clothing going spare. Do I just ignore it because it's fanfic?"
> 
> Answer - You read it in the fic - including the excellent suggestion that Harry wear it on the train ride home.
> 
> Come to my tumblr [dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram](http://dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram.tumblr.com). I'm going to post imges and video that I found while researching this fic (the TV shows are actual tv shows, the banners are actual banners, the copies of 1980s feminist magazines are actual copies of 1980s feminist magazines). I'd love to hear comments or questions.


	4. After

 

> 23 December 1984
> 
> Dear Harry
> 
> I miss you so much. It’s only been two days and all I do is miss you.
> 
> Mum told Dad. Last night I think. When he came down to breakfast this morning I was already eating and he brought me a cup of tea and said “love you no matter what son” and left again. I assume that means Mum told him. I can’t think what else it’d mean.
> 
> I told my sisters as well. The woman Lottie works for is apparently supportive of gays and lesbians and so it seems like that rubbed off. She does think that you’re wasted on me and could do much better. Fizzy got all upset about the things people say. I told her not to worry – I’m used to it. But it was sweet of her. I’m lucky.
> 
> I’m writing to you late at night, because I’ve been working long shifts down the welfare. There’s so much to sort out for Christmas. Presents to wrap, food to organise. Everyone is doing all they can. I keep getting that dumb song stuck in my head. Our kids are going to know it’s Christmas and Bob Geldof can fuck off. (Although George Michael apparently played at a Miners’ benefit gig in London, did you know?).
> 
> My birthday’s tomorrow. As a kid I complained so much about being born on Christmas Eve. I was convinced I was getting less attention than I should be and less presents. Now I’m trying to persuade Mum not to do anything. She’s insisted on a cake and talked about having our Christmas meal tomorrow, but she agreed to a normal meal instead. The girls should have Christmas on Christmas.
> 
> I’m going to be 21. That’s old. But imagine if we lose and I lose my job – on the scrapheap at 21.
> 
> I’m not going to think about that. We did a good job at Christmas for all the kids and that’s all I’m going to think about.
> 
> Well I’ll also think about you. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop since you left. Being with you every night was so magic. When I get to my room at night your smell is still there, or I imagine it is. When I turn off the light, I can’t think of anything but you and all the brilliant beautiful things we did together. I remember touching you and you touching me. My lips and your lips. Imagine if that was normal. If we could lie in bed together every night. Imagine if we could touch each other all the time.
> 
> All I want is to get my mouth on your cock. You taste so good. If you were here, I’d kiss you up against the door and then I’d go down on my knees for you. I want to smell you, taste you, feel you in my mouth.
> 
> Wish you were here, love you.
> 
> Louis

 

> 24 December 1984
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> Happy Birthday! I was so happy we got to talk on the phone. I loved hearing your voice. I wish I could capture your voice the way I can take photographs and then listen to it when I miss you. I read every letter you wrote me and hear your voice in my head. I packed them all up in a bundle and took them with me. I had the letters with me when I visited, because I couldn’t bear the thought of being without them in Holmes Chapel. I read them all the time.
> 
> I read the ones where you talk about what we’ll do the most often. They make me so hard. I’ve wanked off to them non-stop since that first one you sent, before I visited. I want to write back beautiful sexy letters for you, but I haven’t because I imagine I’ll be bad at it.
> 
> But it’s your birthday and I want you to have letters as well. If you were here, in my room, I’d want to undress you. I love seeing you naked. Remember in the darkroom when we both had our jeans on, but our tops off? That was really sexy. I want you to fuck me again. Everything about that is amazing. The way you are so careful with your fingers. Each one stretches a bit, but feels fantastic. Then your cock. It’s all so strange and new to me, new and amazing.
> 
> Next time you fuck me though I want to be able to see you. We can do that right? There are different positions?
> 
> I’m going to stop now because that’s embarrassing. But I keep remembering what you said about photographs. I’m learning how to do it so it’s alright if I’m not the most amazing photographer when I start my course. I’ll get better at writing you filthy letters right? I’d like to.
> 
> You can learn things too Louis. I know it’s scary with the strike and your birthday. But you’re so amazing, you talked to people so well and you made things happen in the Miners’ Welfare and you learned how to mine, which I think must be quite hard. Even if they shut the mines there are so many things you could do.
> 
> Happy Birthday (even though you won’t get this letter till well after Christmas).
> 
> I love you
> 
> Harry

 

 

> 28 December 1984
> 
> Oh Harry – I love you, I love you, I love you.
> 
> Mostly I love that you wrote me a dirty letter. That was even hotter than I imagined. I love all your letters, but the idea of you wanting to turn me on for my birthday and writing that. It’s so hot.
> 
> There are other positions. I think we can do it like girls and boys do – that you see sometimes in films.
> 
> But what I most want to do, next time we’re together, is go on top of you. I’d tell you to lie down on your bed (we’d have to pull it out from your wall I think – otherwise there wouldn’t be enough space). I’d take your cock in my mouth and take in the taste and the smell. I wouldn’t suck you long though, just enough to get you really hard. I’d sit on the end of the bed and put my fingers inside myself. You wouldn’t be allowed to touch, just look. You’d get even harder watching me putting my fingers in one by one.
> 
> Then I’d straddle you and take your cock in my hands. I’d get up on my knees and gently lower myself down on your cock. That way I can see you and you can see me. And it’ll feel amazing – it’ll feel like nothing else.
> 
> Keep writing – I’ll write dirty stuff back (I wrote all my clean stuff in the last letter before your latest one had arrived – so this letter is an extra bonus reward for writing such beautiful things).
> 
> Love love love love love love
> 
> Louis

*

_7 January 1985_

The day two vans drove into the pit through their picket line, Louis knew they’d lost. One of the scabs is the father of someone he went to school with. Once, when Louis was younger than the twins, he had fallen and the man who is now scabbing had carefully cleaned the wound and put a plaster on. It just makes Louis so much angrier. There are sixteen people scabbing at the Yorkshire Main colliery – how could that happen?

He was going to go to the Miners’ Welfare after shift change and help out. But Jack says that the problem is that so many miners are soft. Not men enough to stay on the picket line. Louis knows Jack wants him to hear it – that it’s aimed at him. He stays.

He’s even angrier as the scabs leave again. How dare they do this to everyone here.

When he gets home, he realises he can’t feel his feet. He should have noticed something when he stopped feeling cold. He takes off his shoes and his sodden socks and puts on a new pair of socks and some slippers.

“Mum, I can’t feel my feet. Is that bad?” He should have put it differently, he doesn’t want to worry her. She takes his slippers and socks off again and pricks his feet and is definitely worried. She sends Lottie off to get all his warmest clothes to help raise his body temperature. Then she wraps up hot water bottles in tea towels, puts them under his feet and wraps both the hot water bottle and his feet up in a blanket. She tells him he has to get warm slowly or it might do damage. He will know things are getting better when his feet started hurting, which isn’t reassuring.

“Pay attention, love. Next time you can’t feel your feet, come home straight away.” She goes off to make him a cup of tea. For now, he is to stay still, get warm, drink tea (with sugar in it even though that’s disgusting) and watch telly.

His sisters are lovely. Fizzy talks to him about the strike and offers to make new tea every time he takes a sip. Lottie brings her duvet down so he can be quite warm. They take turns sitting on his feet in the hope it will help.

As the pain from his feet warming up brings him back to the world, he realises how worried everyone is. He wants to swear, but his sisters are in the room so he tries not to. He mostly succeeds.

After what feels like an entire lifetime of excruciating pain, Mum examines his feet again. She pokes them and prods them and asks him where it hurts.

“Good, love, they’ll be alright and we don’t have to go to hospital.” Louis hadn’t quite realised how serious it is. She gives him a big hug.

“Take care, love. We need you in one piece. So, does Harry.” Louis hadn’t expected Mum to mention Harry so casually. He feels tears in his eyes. He isn’t sure he wants to tell Harry about his poorly feet, it’ll worry him. But he decides that he will and he’ll also tell him what Mum said.

There’s another letter from Harry. He can’t read it down here in front of his family even though it will warm him up much quicker than disgusting sweet tea.

Mum comes and tucks him in that night, making sure he’ll be warm. Louis promises that he will pay more attention to his feet and leave the picket line if it gets like that again. Then she tells about when he was born and how she’d hadn’t known if she could keep him. Everyone at the hospital tried to persuade her to give him up, but her Mum looked after her.

“I want to be that for you, Lou. Whatever you want to do with the rest of your life, I want you to have it.” It’s such a futile wish given what is going on, but Louis feels loved.

*

 

> 4 January 1985
> 
> Dear Louis my love,
> 
> I’m back in Manchester tonight. I came a few days early so I can go to work tomorrow. I’ve got so many photographs to develop. I’m hoping to be able to spend tomorrow evening and all of Sunday making contact sheets of the photographs I took (that’s like little mini-photographs – so I can decide which ones are worth developing).
> 
> But I have really exciting news. We had an informal LGSM meeting tonight – people haven’t been able to collect as much as they want. So, we’re going to do a fundraising gig. Nick and them think they’ll be able to raise thousands of pounds. I want that so much.
> 
> They’re hopeful we can get some top bands involved (Nick of course wants to invite the Smiths so he’ll have another chance with the love of his life – but they’ll be on tour then so everyone thinks it’s unlikely, even though they do support the miners). It’s not all sorted out yet, we’re meeting again on Wednesday to plan it out more. We need a venue and a date and everything else will come from there.
> 
> You could come! You could come to Manchester to talk at the fundraising gig. And those things we’ve been writing about – they could become real – not just incredibly hot words on pieces of paper. I keep thinking of having your cock inside me and seeing your beautiful eyes at the same time. I think when I’ve finished writing this letter I’m going to put my fingers inside me – imagining that you’re watching. I love the idea of you watching me do that to myself.
> 
> Oh, and the other gossip from the meeting is that Jesse and Cara seem to have got together while I was away. They’re the two lesbians who came with us – I think Jesse talked quite a bit with Fizzy.
> 
> I have to work really hard because we have our next critique in two weeks. I have to put together a whole panel and after last time I want it to be good. I’ll try to keep writing, but some of my letters might be quite short. I still love you.
> 
> Love you – I need to sleep now – I have work very early in the morning.
> 
> Your Harry.

 

 

> 8 January 1985
> 
> Dear darling beautiful perfect Harry,
> 
> The idea of me watching while you put your fingers inside yourself is so hot. I almost read your letter while my sisters were around. That would have been a bad idea. I’m glad I saved it till when I was alone (sorry I didn’t reply straight away I was exhausted).
> 
> I wanked myself off last night, imagining you putting on a show for me. I was so hard just from reading your words. I want you to look at me and touch your cock.
> 
> You better organise that gig! I really need to come to Manchester. It sounds amazing – with or without the Smiths. Poor Douglas – has he come back to a meeting? I’m very excited that Cara and Jesse got together. I’ll tell Fizzy. I think she’ll be excited as well. Did I tell you that for my birthday Fizzy cut up one of back issues of Spare Rib that had pictures of the pride march and made it a card. As well as being beautiful, it’s a huge sacrifice – Fizzy worships those copies. And I love being able to look at these pictures of beautiful gay men walking the streets of London and imagine it might be me one day.
> 
> Don’t worry or apologise if you’re too busy to write as much when you’re preparing your project. Develop those photos! What you’re doing is important. Both taking photos of the strike and learning how to make photographs. Short notes make me feel loved just like long letters. And I know you love me anyway.
> 
> Love you ridiculously
> 
> Louis

*

_16 January 1985_

Harry looks at his contact sheet again. He is frustrated at how many half stories he has. When things had happened, he’d frozen. He hadn’t taken any photographs of the snatch, he only has the result.

He finds a series of photos in the Miners’ Welfare that he likes. Always with more than one person in them, so his tutor can’t say he’s hero-worshipping Che Guevara. His favourite has Louis in it, of course, talking excitedly about presents. A woman said her son was desperate for an art set, but those were in the girls’ section. Louis was sorting it out that the boy could have what he wanted.

His tutor will probably think it’s a rubbish photo, but Harry decides to include it anyway.

He works long days the Tuesday and Wednesday before the critique and he finishes just in time. Everything goes a bit wrong. Some of the photos don’t come out like he wants and he has to do them again, or swap them out. It’s frustrating. His letters to Louis get briefer and briefer.

The morning of the critique Harry dreams that he is running late and won’t get there on time. But he wakes up an hour early.

It’s fascinating to look at what other students have done. Most seem to be taking the tutor’s advice and are doing still life. Objects abound. Lots of them are very pretty.

After they’ve briefly looked at all the photos, the critique starts. Harry will be about half-way through. At the start, people are just saying nice things to each other, complimenting the things they like. The tutor pushes them to say what each student could try to do differently. One man has similar compositions in most of his photographs, which Harry only notices when another student mentions it. It isn’t harsh. Harry thinks he’ll be able to handle his turn.

“My project is photographs from the Miners’ Strike. This panel is all photographs from the Yorkshire Main Miners’ Welfare just before Christmas.” After Harry has introduced his project he’s not allowed to say anything, he has to listen.

“I think it’s brave of you to do people.” The first comment is not reassuring. He isn’t sure brave is what he wants to be. But people say nice things. Nobody says anything bad about Louis. They like the energy and the movement. Even his tutor seems somewhat impressed. His tutor says there’s some work to do, but potential.

That night Harry has an LGSM meeting and the gig is happening. To Nick’s disappointment no-one has managed to ask the Smiths. But the Haçienda and the Redskins both said yes. So that’s a venue and a headliner.

He writes to Louis with his good news. He doesn’t ask about the strike. It isn’t going well, Harry knows that. But it’s hard to tell in what way it isn’t going well or what’s true. Are people going back? Is that just government lies? He knows there are no power cuts though. He can tell that – and Louis has said that without power cuts there is no hope.

LGSM have stopped collecting, but Harry still collects with Niall outside the Co-Op every Saturday morning.

What will happen when the strike is over? Harry assumed that the miners would win. What will life after the strike look like for Louis? He asks Niall, who seems to know things, that Saturday.

“Well, unless there’s a miracle then people will go back to work and the mines will keep closing.”

“The strike’s to stop mine closures right? So if they –” he can’t say lose “– if they don’t win, then they’ll go back to work, but some of them won’t have jobs?”

“Pretty much – there’s a pit closure schedule and that’ll be accelerated – plus the Coal Board wants to fire quite a few miners for being arrested during the strike.”

Stan, will Stan not be able to go back?

“So, some of them won’t be able to go back because they’re fired? And others won’t be able to go back because their pit will close? But others will just be keep on working?”

What will that mean for Louis? Harry dreams of Louis coming and living in Manchester with him. But what about his family and his work?

*

_22 January 1985_

There were no more scabs this week, but picketing gets more and more tense each day. Louis keeps his promise to Mum and regularly goes and warms himself in front of their fire. Every so often, he thinks of his feet and checks that he can feel them, if they’re cold. After school, Lottie comes and joins him on the picket line, which she’s been doing a bit when she isn’t working down the hairdressers or cutting hair at the welfare.

Louis sticks by Stan, who’s trying to stay out of trouble; by all three of them sticking together he’s keeping Lottie safe. He isn’t going to explain that logic to anyone except Mum if she asks why Lottie is down the picket line.

It feels like there are more cops each day, snatching people, walking round like they own the streets. As they leave the picket line, the cops almost line their entire route to the Miners’ Welfare.

Jack jostles Louis as they pass. “What are you even here for? We all know where your kind belong. In the boss’s office sucking cock. You faggot scab.”

“What did you just call me?” Louis should probably have tried to sound more together, but he is furious.

“I called you a faggot scab. Scab.”

Louis knows he can’t afford to hit Jack here, not with all these police around. No matter how much he wants to fight, he can’t.

“Fuck you, Jack.” That’s Lottie! “You only know so much about scabbing because half your family over in Rossington have. My brother wouldn’t suck the boss’s cock, any more than he’d suck yours. So fuck off home!” Lottie spits on Jack.

Louis is fairly sure if he’d done that he would have been arrested, but the police pretend not to see Lottie. Louis squares off next to her, and he can feel Stan is in behind as well.

They’re giving Jack a choice. And he backs down.

“Oh God, don’t tell Mum I swore like that,” Lottie says, as soon as they’ve all watched Jack leave.

Louis laughs “I bet you two quid that swearing will not be Mum’s primary concern when she hears this story.”

“I’m going to report him to Paul.” Stan says. Louis makes slight noises – does he really want to draw attention like that?

“No, it’s the right thing to do. He shouldn’t use language like that anyway and he certainly shouldn’t be calling anyone a scab who isn’t. Paul will sort it.”

Louis bites his lip in an attempt to stop the tears. “Thanks, both of you.”

He thinks back to the years before now. When they didn’t know, and he remembers them both saying such horrible things about gay men, and now here they are, backing him.

“Don’t be daft thanking us – what else are we here for?”

Mum doesn’t even say anything about Lottie turning up to the picket line; she just says that she is proud of both of them and thanks Lottie.

*

 

> 22 January 1985
> 
> Beautiful wonderful amazing perfect Harry
> 
> I know I said it in my last few letters, but I’m so proud of you doing amazing with your critique. You’re brave to have kept on trying after your tutor said horrible (and incorrect – if I look like Che Guevara in your photographs it’s just my inner revolutionary leader coming out) things. And your photographs are beautiful and true.
> 
> I haven’t been as true as I could have been in my letters. Some horrible things have been happening that I didn’t tell you about. It was partly that I didn’t want to worry you when you had so much work to do. And partly that putting it down makes it all feel real.
> 
> In early January, they drove two vans through the picket line. There’s still only 14 people going back – far less than the papers say. But we didn’t think we had to worry. Nobody scabs here. It’s a pit village and we’re all raised from when we’re little to know that you just don’t scab.
> 
> We’re not going to win. I’ve known that since the two vans drove through.
> 
> That day I stayed at the picket line a long time and the weather was awful. When I got home, I couldn’t feel my feet. Mum right freaked out and went full into nurse mode and heated them up slowly so they didn’t fall off or something.
> 
> And when she told me off for not paying enough attention and noticing that they were cold she said, “We need you. Harry needs you.” I thought you should know that – that she thinks of you like that.
> 
> I haven’t felt warm, proper warm, for months. I think the last day I wasn’t cold was the day you were up here and we played football on the picket line.
> 
> What if all that cold has been for nothing? What if it’s all for nothing? What if we lose?
> 
> That’s not the only bad thing. Today on the picket line Jack (he’s the asshole who kicked up such a fuss about you guys) called me a scab (he actually said that people like me belong in the boss’s office sucking cock and that I was a faggot scab). Lottie was there, because she’s been coming down the picket line after school and she just yelled at him and spat at him (there were police everywhere so I couldn’t fight him).
> 
> Stan’s going to complain to Paul. There are all these things – being defended by my sister, people thinking I’m gay. I would have felt so much shame about it all before. And I don’t. I feel good because Stan and Lottie stood by me (and Mum – Lottie was convinced Mum was going to tell her off for swearing – and instead Mum gives her a big hug and tells her she’s proud of her).
> 
> So much has changed for us this last year. For me, I’ve met you and I’ve been able to tell people and that’s only because your group came up here. And both Fizzy and Lottie are so smart and grown-up and know so many things about the world that I never did (I think things might have changed for Mum as well – but I’m not sure how).
> 
> It’s hard to keep all that straight in my head with the despair and the feeling that it might have been for nothing. I guess that’s the point. It’s not for nothing. Fighting was the right thing to do – and even if we lose it was still the right thing to do.
> 
> There are discussions going on. I’m happy to leave those to the grown-ups.
> 
> I try to imagine being a coal miner again, or not being a coal miner and both options seem impossible.
> 
> I’m learning to tell you things, because you’re my boyfriend and I love you. I hope this isn’t too much after keeping it all in my head.
> 
> Love you
> 
> Louis
> 
> PS I just realised that this is a very boring and clean letter. So I will add in this postscript that the only cock I want to suck is yours. No boss’s cock for me. I want Harry’s cock, so I can smell Harry and taste Harry.

 

 

> 24 January 1985
> 
> Dear Lovely Louis who I love,
> 
> Oh darling! I wish I was there to fight those people for you. Although I’m glad Lottie is doing a great job. I’m glad your feet are alright and hope Stan gets somewhere with getting Jack in trouble. I bought you a pair of socks. I know it’s silly – you have lots of socks. But I went to Marks and Spencers and asked for the warmest socks they had. And I thought you could wear them sometimes and think of me.
> 
> I asked Niall some questions, because I didn’t want to ask them by letter (It felt wrong even to put ‘what happens if you don’t win’ down on paper). And what he says makes perfect sense with what you say. I’ve been hoping for power cuts every day. I hope there’s a miracle for you.
> 
> It makes me so angry to see what people are saying. People used to say nonsense in Holmes Chapel (they still do – I went to the pub Christmas Eve and I got into a full-blown argument about the whole thing. I ended up telling some friends of my parents that they didn’t know what they were talking about. It might have been awkward but everyone was just super condescending. Someone said ‘first term at art college’ and everyone laughed – I was livid and upset. My sister Gemma agrees with me though. She’s training to be a teacher in Sheffield).
> 
> I’m learning heaps, but I still feel like I know nothing. You never make me feel like that – even though I knew so little when I met you. You always made me feel worthwhile.
> 
> I’m trying to do lots of work on my portfolio so it’s not all at the last minute like it was for the critique. I’m so happy that you’re in it. You look so beautiful.
> 
> We’ve sorted the date of the fundraising gig – 28th March. It’s a Wednesday. You’ll come right? The group will pay your fare if you’ll speak.
> 
> Even though that’s two months away I’m so excited that I get to see you again. I’m going to make a calendar and cross out each of the days. Like I did when I was a kid waiting for Christmas.
> 
> Love you so much.
> 
> Your Harry

 

 

> 26 January 1985
> 
> Dearest most wonderful Harry
> 
> Yes! Of course I’ll come for the fundraiser. I can’t wait to see you (and the money will really help). You’re right it makes so much of a difference to have something to look forward to. To know there’s a day where I’m going to get to touch you and kiss you. To see your eyes and your hair and your smile and your cock. To kiss all four of your nipples. To try out some of the long list of things we’ve written about. To have you inside me and be able to see you and kiss you at the same time.
> 
> I’m counting down the days too.
> 
> Jack’s been heavily censured for misusing the word scab. Paul came up to me beforehand and suggested that they don’t talk about the other things he’d said. That it might draw a lot of attention to myself if I complained about the rest. So, they had their discussion and censured Jack and he’ll have to apologise to me.
> 
> Then Sam brought forward a motion from the women’s group. They’ve been having a discussion about the use of derogatory language on the picket line. And they particularly didn’t like it when scabs were compared to women. Although she only mentioned examples of male chauvinism (is that how you spell it – I should ask Fizzy) – the motion talked about derogatory language towards women and ethnic and sexual minorities. And the committee had no choice but to pass the motion. Because they could hardly say: “no we do think women are worse than men,” after everything women have done for this strike.
> 
> When I came back from picketing that day Stan told me everything (he found us two fags and we smoked them outside so I could lose it a bit and everyone wouldn’t see). And later Sam found me and told me that their motion wasn’t just for me, but it was partly because of Jack.
> 
> When I got home that night Fizzy and Lottie were so excited – because they knew all about it (Fizzy from the women’s group and Lottie because she works for Sam’s sister). It hadn’t even come from Fizzy or Sam – all of the women’s group were outraged that Jack had said that about me and it made them think of the things people had said about them. Fizzy called it consciousness raising.
> 
> I’m going to get to see you! I know everything is awful. Really awful. But they can’t take away our love.
> 
> Love you, love you so much
> 
> Louis
> 
> PS Thank you so much for the socks. I’m so happy to think I’m going to get to wear something you bought me tomorrow. And Mum officially thinks you’re the best boyfriend I could ever have. Turns out the way to her heart is keeping me warm.

*

_3 March 1985_

It had been daytime when H:arry entered the darkroom and now it’s night. Harry always finds that disorienting. He feels like the sun has been taken from him unreasonably. As he gets to the corner of Oxford St he hears a voice: “Extra – Breaking News: Miners Returning to Work! Read all about it!”

At first, he can’t see the source of the voice. Where is the paper seller? He follows the sound across the road and passes over some coins for a paper. There’s not much information – just that they’re returning to work on Tuesday.

Harry goes to the Liverpool Road station and buys a ticket to Doncaster tomorrow after his morning lectures. Canal Street is so close that he decides to go to the Rem and see if anyone’s there and knows anything.

Most of LGSM are down the back – and clearly started drinking a while ago.

“I was watching Dad’s Army reruns when the news broke in.” Nick says. “That’s what you get for watching slop.”

No-one knows anything more – except it’s a total defeat. There’s no amnesty for sacked miners.

“I’m going to Edlington tomorrow.” Harry says. “I got my ticket on the way here.”

People are glad he’s going. Cara has art supplies on her, and Antonio turns a piece of heavy paper into a card with a sketch of the Miners’ Welfare and a message of solidarity. Everyone signs it.

Harry is the first to leave – but Nick walks out with him. “You’re a good lad, Harry. I’m delighted you stopped by our stall. Now get going so you can give your miner a blowjob before he returns to a hard life on the coal.”

“Thanks Nick.” He’s grateful for so much. His life would be unimaginably worse without everything that came from that moment.

On the way to the train station the next day, he buys chocolate bars for Louis’ family and a new issue of _Spare Rib_. He wants to get something for Louis, but everything he sees seems trite.

He’s going to see Louis for the first time in over two months. He’s thought about visiting lots of times. He almost bought a same day ticket the day Louis sent his letter about everything that had happened to him. But what with working most of Saturday, he’d only be able to go up for just over a day. And it always seemed selfish to do that when he could put the money in a collection box.

But now the gentle noise of the train is taking him to Louis. Louis doesn’t even know he’s coming. He tried telephoning on the way to the station, but there was no answer. Harry’ll be a surprise.

Harry isn’t even sure what he feels. They’ve lost. Harry hadn’t even asked or hoped while the strike was on, but maybe now Louis and him’ll get to spend more time together. Harry wants that more than anything (except the victory that very much isn’t coming).

Harry would have expected to be devastated or elated when the strike ended – but he doesn’t feel either of these things. Just confused and uncertain as he waits for whatever is going to happen next.

He catches a bus to Louis’ village. He thinks about going to the Miners’ Welfare, but he doesn’t want to intrude if everyone is there. Instead he goes to Louis’ home.

Lottie opens the door – Louis and his Dad are at a meeting. She’s making a cake with the twins. Harry’s glad he got smarties as well as chocolate bars – they’re going to use them to decorate the cake.

“I’m really glad you’re there to look after Louis.” Harry says to Lottie as he helps her clean up the cake-making mess as the twins watch TV.

Lottie smiles at that. “I’m glad he’s got you too. And that he told us. It’s dumb that people are stupid about gays.”

Harry finds himself blinking away tears.

Lottie makes him some tea. Fizzy appears from doing her homework and is delighted by her copy of _Spare Rib_. The cover is about the strike again. She disappears to go read it.

Harry peels potatoes while Lottie makes mince for shepherd’s pie.

Louis and his Dad come home together. Harry hears them before he sees them. Louis comes into the kitchen and almost does a double take. He grabs Harry. Unlike every time they’d met at a station, they don’t have to pretend. Louis kisses Harry and pushes him backward until he’s backed into the kitchen drawers.

This sounds more romantic than it is, because Harry has handles pointing into his back. He doesn’t mind when Lottie whacks Louis with a tea towel, “Act decent this is a kitchen.”

“I got a ticket as soon as I heard the news.”

“How long can you stay?” Louis asks.

“I’ll get the train back tomorrow night, hopefully after you get back from work.” He doesn’t want to just see Louis to wave goodbye in the morning.

“Fuck that’s right, tomorrow I’m a miner again.”

Harry wants to ask more, but tea is ready and there is a bustle serving it.

The twins have their cake before they go to bed, but everyone else is going to stay up until Louis’ Mum gets home.

Louis’ Dad runs a bath. Louis and then the girls use the water. Harry goes up last and Louis tells him to take the plug out when he’s done. Jay should have fresh water tonight. The bath is much fuller than it was on Harry’s last visit.

Louis’ Mum gives Harry a hug and tells him that she’s really glad he came. After she’s eaten her tea, she cuts up the cake and everyone gets a slice.

“I wish we were eating this cake under different circumstances.” Louis’ Dad is speaking – Harry hasn’t heard him say much before. “It should have been different. Before – before tomorrow – I just want to say how proud I am of all of you. And it’s right you’re here Harry. It’s been a hard year. But we survived and tomorrow Louis and I can go back with our heads high. And that’s because of you.”

He’s crying by the end, and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen a grown-up man cry – it’s devastating. Louis interlaces his fingers between Harry’s and squeezes.

“We’re so proud of all of you.” Louis’ Mum says. “You’re the best children any parent could possibly ask for, and you’ve all found your way the last year. I’m so proud of you.”

Louis’ Mum is taking the day off work, and everyone’s going to be late to school. The pit is going back at nine. They’re to meet outside a pub on the edge of the village at eight thirty.

Louis and Harry get undressed in silence. It’s not until they’re lying in Louis’ bed, facing each other – like they used to do on the mattress that isn’t there anymore – that Louis says anything.

“We shouldn’t be going back without the others.” Louis talks for a bit about the miners who aren’t going to be able to go back. About how they should have stood out for them. Stan is still suspended until after his court case.

Then Louis says, “They’re going to close our pit. I know it. It’s the dole for me.”

Harry hears Louis’ voice break and the anger becomes something else as Louis sobs.

Harry can’t do anything but hold him. He just wants to be able to make it alright for Louis and he can’t.

As Louis starts to cry a little quieter, after what feels like a very long time, Harry starts whispering. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here with you. Your family is here with you. I wish this wasn’t happening but you’re not alone.”

When he’s almost calm, Louis starts to apologise.

Harry puts his hand on Louis’ lips, as Louis had once done to him when he’d been apologising for something he shouldn’t. “I’m so glad to be here with you tonight.”

“I’m glad you came.” Louis says, softly.

“Always.”

“Do you mind if we just sleep tonight?” It takes Harry a minute to figure out what Louis is asking.

“No – I came a whole train journey today. Why should the end of everything you’ve been fighting for for a year get in the way of my shag?”

Louis laughs at that, it feels so good to make him laugh.

“You’re right – of course. You came so far, it’s the least I could do.” Louis kisses him gently, softly.

“If we wake up in time, I’ll give you a blowjob tomorrow morning though. Nick told me I should.”

Louis laughs again at that and makes an exaggerated show of going to sleep.

There’s one more thing Harry wants to say though. He wants to give Louis’ something to look forward to. “Tomorrow when I go, I’ll buy you tickets to come up for the fundraising party. Maybe you can come for a couple of days. Then we will shag. Tonight we’ll cuddle and sleep.”

“I’d forgotten about that. It’ll be good to have some money coming in. I know everyone acted like we have no more money worries tonight. But we do. Everyone does. Debt everywhere. A little more money for the welfare will make a huge difference.”

“It’s definitely still going ahead – we talked about it last night.”

“Would you -” Louis pauses as if he isn’t sure what to ask for. “I want to look fabulous at my first gay event. Nick and them – they have make-up and jewellry and the like? Could you borrow stuff from them? When they came up here, one of those two who are together was wearing an earring, and it was just – I don’t want to look normal around other people looking like that – I want to be part of it.”

“Borrow stuff? Are you saying I don’t look fabulous on my own?” Louis giggles at that. Harry is so happy to have distracted him, even if just for a moment. “Of course – I bet Lottie would lend you things as well.”

“I’d feel bad asking. I know she’s been handing most of her wages over to Mum. She hasn’t been able to buy anything for a very long time. But she does have a lot of nail polishes. She’s been collecting them since she was ten. I’ll ask her to lend me a few different colours so we can decide what goes with our outfits.”

They lie in silence for a bit, and Harry thinks about getting dressed together. Putting together outfits.

“You’re going to be the prettiest princess at the ball.” He tells Louis.

Louis tears up again. “Sorry.”

“Hey, Lou – there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, with you. Whatever you’re feeling.”

They try to sleep after that, although Harry is fairly sure that Louis doesn’t.

They do wake up in time for blowjobs and filthy cum-filled kisses.

But much sooner than Harry would like, they head down for family breakfast of porridge with raisins in it as a special treat. No one talks much. Afterwards, Louis and his Dad get changed into work clothes.

“Didn’t Nick call me ‘your miner’? I really am a miner today.” Louis finds Harry as soon as he’s dressed.

“Can I kiss you here before we go outside, before you go back?” Harry asks. He wants Louis to have one more kiss to take back with him down the mine today.

Louis grins at him and pulls them close. Lips and tongue and their bodies touching.

Then they hear a bustle that suggests people are leaving, and Louis pulls back. “I’m taking the taste of you with me, and that makes this much more bearable.”

The whole family walks to the meeting point, along with the rest of the village. There is a lot going on outside when they get there – banners and a whole brass band. The miners gather behind the banners. Harry starts taking photographs. He’s going to record how amazing people are. Even now. Even under these circumstances.

An older man – who looks like Harry’s father – has a tear running down his face. Another man, the same age, gives him a handkerchief.

The banners look beautiful – his black and white camera won’t capture them properly, but he takes photos anyway. One has two hands in a handshake with ‘unity is strength’ underneath. It feels true. Fizzy is holding one end of a banner which says: “Edlington Women Against Pit Closures”

Everyone looks so strong and brave, walking back as the band plays. The miners lead, and they walk all through the village. People come out of their houses. Some join the parade. Harry gets occasional glimpses of Louis up ahead.

The band stops and the march goes quiet. The silence is eerie. They pass a house which has ‘Scab’ painted on the fence. Freshly painted, as if someone had gone ‘round last night to make sure they were marked out. The curtains are closed – unlike every other house in the village. As soon as the back of the procession passes the scab house, the band starts up again.

One block of flats has older men and women – dozens and dozens of them.

When they finally get to the pit, the miners keep going. Some brass band players put their instruments down and also head into the mine. The entrance to the mine has ‘Scab’ painted on it.

Everyone left picks up banners and instruments and walks back to the Miners’ Welfare. Everything is packed and tidied away. The kids leave for school.

Harry finds Stan and wishes him luck with his court case. He gives him a Milky Bar he’d kept back from Louis’ sisters. It seems totally inadequate.

Louis’ Mum finds him then, “Shall we head back for a cuppa?”

She tells him to call her Jay and they talk about Louis. She thanks Harry for making Louis comfortable enough to tell her. They both cry a bit at that.

“What about your Mum, love? Have you thought about telling her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she’d disown me, but I don’t think she’d be happy about it.” Harry doesn’t know if he’s explaining it well.

“I’m very grateful Louis gave me a chance. I hope I can meet your Mum one day and tell her what a good lad she’s raised.”

Louis’ Mum – Jay – gives Harry a hug.

“I don’t know what to do with myself. A whole day without anyone else around. That almost never happens.”

“I bought some course work – I can just read and get out of your hair.”

Jay decides to do the accounts. “Might as well figure out how much we owe. I’d like to get a treat for dinner tonight, but I want to be sure where we stand first.”

After she’s done that, she sits down on the sofa with Harry and reads a book. “Not often I get a chance like this. Might as well take it.”

Harry wanted to take Louis out again. But his Mum is talking of making trifle and including Harry in their plans to eat together.

Louis looks different when he comes back. Harry isn’t sure if it’s the coal dust, or washing off the coal dust, or something else.

After tea and after trifle, Louis takes him back on the bus.

They get a ticket for Louis to come to the benefit.

“This is the first time I’ve said goodbye to you knowing when I’m going to see you again.” Harry says.

“I wish I could kiss you. I know I can’t, but remember I want to. I want to put my hand on your cheek, and lean in and gently kiss you.” Louis’ pauses, “I was going to tell you what I wanted to do next, but then I thought it might be awkward if we both got hard-ons here in the train station.”

Harry laughs.,

“Come on, your train is leaving in a minute.”

He gets on the train and waves goodbye. Next to Louis, a boy and a girl are full on snogging on the platform. Harry wants to be able to do that. And he definitely doesn’t want to be on a train home, away from his boyfriend.

*

_26 March 1985_

The last thing Mum had done before Louis left the house was tuck a five pound note in his pocket. “You gave me nearly all your wages the last two weeks. You’re going to Manchester, have some fun. And we’ll talk about money when you get back. You might need some savings.”

He hadn’t acknowledged what she was saying. Isn’t going to think about it. He is going to Harry. When he gets in, Harry is going to take him out, so he’s dressed up all nice. Then they are going to have sex, lots of sex. At some point tomorrow they’ll stop having sex and start making each other look pretty. Then they will go to a fabulous party, get fabulously drunk, be fabulous and go home and have probably slightly not entirely fabulous drunk sex. It’s a great plan, and Louis is excited about it. And he isn’t going to let any announcement get in the way.

He falls asleep almost before the train leaves the station. Mining again has left him exhausted and he wants all his energy for Manchester.

He makes sure he is waiting by the door when the train pulls in. Harry is further down the platform, but he’s running towards Louis. Louis runs too and when they meet, he hugs Harry, gets to touch him and hold him. Here, in Manchester, he doesn’t care who sees.

“Fuck off, queers!” Someone shouts.

Staying away from Harry would be worse.

They leave the station in the other direction from the guy who had yelled stuff out, and Louis doesn’t take Harry’s hand, even though he wants too.

“Where are you taking me?” Louis asks.

“Nick and everyone else in LGSM really like a Greek restaurant that isn’t far from here. I can’t afford anywhere flash, so I thought we could go somewhere different. It’s nice, even if it takes a little getting used to.”

“Sounds perfect.” All Louis wants is food and Harry.

Dinner is nice, Harry asks a few questions about work, but Louis answers them non-committally and gets him talking about his photography.

“I can’t wait to see your portfolio. How’s it going?”

Harry talks more about his photographs and what he’s done. “I’ve got some nice ones of your family from the day everyone went back – I’ll give them to you to give to your Mum, she might like them.”

Louis changes the subject and asks after Nick.

Once they’ve finished dinner, Louis persuades Harry that he’d rather go look at his pictures than to the actual pictures. It’s odd seeing all these people Louis knows being put on display, being on display himself. But he can see how Harry is trying to show what happened and what people were going through.

As they leave the darkroom, Harry tells him that he has a surprise. One of Nick’s flatmates is away for the week and said they can stay in his room. They won’t need to sneak around, and his bed is bigger than Harry’s (although not a proper double bed) and not up against the wall.

Louis slips his hand in Harry’s. “Sounds amazing, darling. Lead the way.”

Nick is home, and so they briefly stop and say hi. Louis is just starting to resent what they could be doing when Nick says, “You don’t actually want to talk to me right now. Go have sex. Use condoms.”

Nick is a fine human being.

Then they’re in a room with the door shut and none of Louis’ sisters in earshot.

“Kiss me.” Harry does, and not a soft, gentle kiss.

“Shall we have a bath?” Harry asks. That sounds romantic and sexy and practical.

Louis sits on the toilet while Harry runs the bath. He pours a little bit of shampoo in the bath water to make bubbles.

“This is luxurious – our own bathwater and bubbles.”

“Only the best for you.” Harry replies.

Louis feels shy taking his clothes off in front of Harry. He’d tried to get clean after work. But he knows it hadn’t worked.

Harry looks so beautiful without his shirt. His curly hair is getting longer, and his back is so real. After far too long with imaginary Harry (and a few pictures of Harry, none of which included his back), it’s almost too much.

“I don’t mind if you’re going to just sit there staring at me all night, but surely it’d be more fun to join in?”

Harry’s turned around now and that isn’t any better, even though he is just wearing socks and pants which should be ridiculous.

“I’m probably still grubby from work.”

Harry pulls Louis up so he’s standing.

“You’re my miner. You can wear as much coal dust as you want.”

“Is that why you like me?” Part of Louis’ brain is shouting at him to stop. Be normal and have a fun bath was his boyfriend. And Harry looks – not devastated – but what Louis said has affected him.

“Sorry, I’m being, a cock. Ignore me. Let’s get in the bath.”

Harry gets in first and Louis sits between his legs. His whole back is up against Harry’s front and he can feel Harry’s cock under his bum.

After he’s soaked Harry in, he says: “Sorry for being weird earlier.”

Harry is amazing. This is the only place Louis wants to be, and he needs to get himself together.

“Sit up,” That sounds like the opposite of what Louis wants to do, and he makes a noise that conveys that feeling. “I’ll wash your back – get rid of the coal dust.”

Louis does as he’s told. It’s awkward for a minute as Harry sits up too and finds a flannel and some soap. Harry gently touches his back – getting soap suds everywhere. Louis feels tears in his eyes.

“My Grandad said that in the old days, some miners would never let anyone wash their backs. They believed it made their chests weak. I don’t even think he was having me on, because my Dad said the same thing – some of the older mines when he started, their backs were all coal.”

“I hope I’m not destroying your strength by washing your body.” Harry says.

“It’s – it’s amazing. Grandad also used to say that when he first got married, before there was running water in the pit houses, he’d have his bath by the fire and Grandma would wash his back. If you wanted to get clean, that was the only way. And she had to heat the water and fill the bath.”

Louis hears Harry rinse out the flannel and start to wash the soap off his back.

“You’re all clean now. Well, not everywhere” And Harry’s flannel moves lower and lower down Louis’ back.

“You want to fuck me?”

“Would that be alright?” Harry suddenly sounds nervous. He’d been so confident and generous washing Louis’ back, Louis doesn’t want him to doubt.

“I would love that very much.” The rough material of the flannel slips between his arse cheeks. He shivers. “You’re amazing. I’ve missed you.” He wants Harry to know, to feel great.

“Shall we get out?” Harry whispers in his ear and, as much as Louis has loved this bath, that sounds ideal.

Louis wraps himself in a towel to go down the corridor to Nick’s flatmate’s room. Harry seems happy to wander round naked.

Nerves are coming and going with Louis tonight. He’s determined to keep them under control after being a complete cock to Harry earlier. But suddenly he feels all shy and unsure and uncertain again, here naked with Harry.

“Can I blow you?” It’s one way to get rid of his nerves, and Harry’s cock is so tempting. “Just a little – then maybe we can do that thing I wrote about, with me on top.”

Just the smell of Harry is amazing. It gets even better as he puts Harry in his mouth and tastes the musky, salty flavour masked by something cleaner.

Soon, way too soon, Harry taps him on the shoulder. Louis wants to keep going, he does for a few more seconds, and then Harry taps him again more forcefully so he stops.

“Don’t you want to be fucked?” Harry asks.

Louis grins “I want to blow you, get fucked, you blow me – I want everything.”

“I want to put my fingers in you. Lie on the bed.”

Louis does what Harry says. He’s harder just from the sound of Harry’s voice.

Harry kisses down Louis’ back and eventually reaches his bum. Louis feels Harry’s lips and fingers and revels in every touch.

“Curl up a bit.” Louis does what Harry says – it’s nice to let Harry decide. The coldness of the stuff Harry has poured onto his fingers surprises Louis. But then he has Harry inside him again. Even just Harry’s finger makes Louis feel different and warm and even more excited. Harry puts another finger in there and is trying to find that place. He doesn’t manage it, not at first. Louis doesn’t mind. He is so happy to be here, to be touched.

“You going on top like you promised?” Harry asks. “So we can look at each other?”

Louis gets up and Harry takes his place on the bed, lying on his back.

Louis straddles Harry and kisses him. Their hard cocks rub against each other. Harry’s is wet and slippery. He must have been touching himself while he had his fingers in Louis. Feeling their cocks touch, Louis almost wants to say forget anything else let’s just do this. But not quite.

Louis kisses Harry again. “Shall I?” He whispers into Harry’s mouth. When Harry says “please”, it almost sounds like a moan. He gives Louis a condom and his tube of condom safe stuff..

Louis would have forgotten. He needs to remember. It’s important to Harry.

He rolls the condom on Harry’s cock. Then he spreads the cold, sticky stuff on the condom. He has no idea what he’s doing.

He just needs to get Harry inside him – it can’t be that complicated.

He straddles Harry again and holds his cock. He feels Harry’s cock between his arsecheeks. Slowly he lowers himself. It’s hard on his thighs moving that slowly. But then he’s sitting on Harry with Harry’s cock inside him and it’s so brilliant.

“Hi.”

Harry says something, but it’s not words.

Louis leans forward and kisses Harry. He has Harry inside him and their lips are touching.

Louis sits back up, and Harry makes another indecent noise. Being able to see Harry makes everything better. Louis pushes himself up and lowers himself down again. Harry likes that. He really likes that. The third time he lowers himself down again, Louis feels an amazing pulse inside him when Harry’s cock touches that place.

Louis keeps going, watching Harry, feeling Harry. It’s so much. And his thighs don’t necessarily like all the pushing and thrusting he’s making them do.

Harry is getting noisier and noisier and Louis loves it. Harry comes and Louis watches him as pleasure takes over his body.

Louis pulls off and Harry wriggles out from underneath him. Then Harry’s mouth is on Louis and he’s reduced to the hot glorious pressure on his cock and soon Louis is coming. He hadn’t even warned Harry.

“Sorry – I didn’t mean to….”

“I like it.” Harry grinned. “It’s good to not be the only person who is so excited.”

“We’re just both irresistibly hot that’s the problem. We’re so hot, we just can’t help but cum almost as soon as we set eyes on each other.”

They cuddle back down on the bed. No space between them.

They talk nonsense for a while. Harry gives them handjobs. They last a bit longer that time.

Afterwards, while Louis is thinking how amazing it is to lie in bed with someone after orgasming twice, Harry asks “Is it alright?”

“What darling?” Was Louis taking up too much of the bed?

“This – I know you’ve been with other people who know more positions and last longer and stuff.”

Louis laughs. “Harry, Harry, Haz, Hazza.” He puts his hand on Harry’s cheek. “This is all brilliant. Don’t doubt – you’re amazing, and it’s just what I wanted. I was thinking about how perfect it is. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done that before. I just had someone mention it to me once and gave it a go. I’m sure there are lots of other great things we can try. But it’s much better to be here with you, figuring out what we like together and trying new things, than it would be to be with someone who thinks they know everything, but who doesn’t even care about me. Or just to be with anyone who is less Harry than you.”

Harry’s grin is wide and beautiful. How can he not know that he’s perfect to Louis?

“I’m absolutely sure that I’d rather be with you than anyone else in the universe.”

“I’ve missed you.” Harry says.

“I’ve missed you too, so much. I’ve missed touching you. Not just, like, getting off. But you. It was so nice in the bath. Part of me just wants to lie down on the floor like a starfish and have you lie on top of me so that we can touch along all of our bodies.”

“We can do that.” Harry replies.

“Noooooo, stay here, all snuggled up with me.” Louis cuddles Harry tighter. He drifts in and out of sleep, and each time Harry is right there.

*

“I think I want red nail polish. I’ll make all other decisions based on that.” Louis says.

Harry picks up the deepest red, “This one?”

Louis sticks his hand out. When Harry takes the lid off, the strong smell hits him. He starts with the little finger of Louis’ left hand and uses the tiny brush to make it deep, beautiful crimson red.

They had woken up very late and it was even later after they’d left the bed. They went and got fish and chips and then came back to Harry’s room to get ready.

Now the empty chip papers are on the floor and Harry is doing Louis’ nails.

“Lottie said I should do two coats,” Louis says as Harry finishes one hand. Once he’s finished both hands, Louis waves his fingers around a bit.

“It looks amazing. And I look so gay. I can’t do anything while it dries, so I’m going to sit here while you show me our fabulous options.”

Nick has lent Harry some jewellery and lipsticks. He’d also tried to give him hair gel and hairspray. But Harry likes Louis’ hair just the way it is, so he hadn’t accepted it. He brings everything over for Louis to look at.

Harry does the second coat on Louis’ nails. They look even better now.

Then Harry finds the clothes. “I spent half a morning in the Oxfam shop looking at shirts – and I got these two.”

One is a leopard print t-shirt and the other is pink and shiny, with a flower pattern in the pink fabric and a bow at the front. Harry is desperate to wear the one with the bow, but would probably let Louis have it if he asked.

“They’re beautiful. I think I know what I’m going to wear. Can you look in the front pocket of my backpack?” Harry finds a pair of braces.

“I found those in the back of my chest of drawers the other day. I wore them in a school play when I was a kid, but they still fit. I was just going to wear them with my t-shirt, but maybe they’d look even better with your leopard print shirt.”

“I think the only way to find out is to try them both on.” Harry isn’t just saying this because he likes Louis taking his shirt off.

“Your pink shirt is amazing.” Louis is smiling at him like it’s a real accomplishment.

“There’s a lot of amazing shirts in the women’s section of an Oxfam shop. I didn’t think I was brave enough to wear this one. But I bought it and if you like it I’ll wear it.”

“I love it, I really love it. You’ve got to wear it.” That’s what Harry wanted Louis to say, but he doesn’t think Louis’s just saying it to make him happy.

“Nick told me to buy it because it’s something that Morrisey would wear.” That had been Nick’s response to most of the shirts Harry tried on.

“His band is getting proper famous. Is poor Nick going to pine over him while he takes over the world?”

“Probably – Cara says he always picks someone ridiculously unattainable and pretends to be in love with him, and then shags whatever beautiful men cross his path.”

“That’s one way of doing it.” Louis says. “I like ours better though.” And he gets up and kisses Harry. “Do you want me to do your nails now? I think mine are dry enough to do yours.”

Louis does Harry’s nails in purple. While Harry is waiting for his nail polish to dry, Louis puts on a show trying on the different tops. Harry pretends he can’t make up his mind so Louis’ll take his top off again. Harry does suggest just wearing the braces and no top, which is a brilliant idea, but Louis’d get a bit cold on the way there. He decides on a plain white t-shirt eventually. It’s a little too loose, and Harry wants to attack Louis’ collarbones.

Luckily Louis only brought one pair of jeans, because if he took his trousers off it would have ruined all their plans and timing.

Once Harry’s nails are dry, he puts on the red print shirt. Louis ties the bow for him. Harry can see flashes of Louis’ beautiful red nails clashing wonderfully with the pink fabric.

“This is called a pussy bow. I know because Lottie saw a piece in a magazine about how Thatcher wore them, and she came home and cut it off her dress. It was her best dress too – and no money for a new one. I think Mum was mad and proud at the same time. She managed to kind of sew it up so it still looked wearable.”

“I don’t want to look like Thatcher!” Harry is horrified – is this what Nick was always saying about Holmes Chapel coming out of him?

Louis takes a step back and laughs. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. You’d need a lot more hair spray. But just in case.” He picks up a ‘Coal not Dole’ badge and pins it on Harry’s shirt. It clashes terribly and looks fabulous.

They put on all the badges they have. LGSM badges with their pink triangles, enamel badges from various collieries and many yellow badges.

They choose a set of silver dangly clip on earrings – they’re going to wear one each. Louis puts them in his pocket.

“Do you want to wear lipstick? Nick gave me a couple.” Harry asks Louis.

“I do – but I’m a bit scared.”

“Nick said definitely not to put it on ‘til we get there.”

“You’ll wear it too?’

“Of course.”

“Take it. That’s what this is all about right – be scared, but do it anyway.”

They choose a bright red lipstick. Harry puts it in his pocket.

It’s five thirty. They should probably get going – the organisers are supposed to be there before six for set up.

Louis hasn’t brought gloves so Harry finds a spare pair. Carefully, they cover up with coats and gloves until they look normal enough to leave the room. As Harry looks at their reflection in a shop window, he realises that neither of them are showing any colour at all. Just wait ‘til they get there.

Harry thought they were early, but everyone is busy at the Haçienda when they arrive. As the official miners’ representative, Louis is taken to meet the band. Harry helps Nick set up the table where they’ll collect money and puts out some chairs.

An hour after they get there, everything is pretty much done. Harry gets him and Louis a drink.

Louis is in the dressing room talking politics with the main act.

“Hello darling.” He takes the beer and kisses Harry on the cheek. It feels so odd to be doing these things in front of strangers. Odd and great. “This is my boyfriend, Harry.”

After a little while, Louis asks Harry if he has the lipstick, and they go to the bathroom. They try applying the lipstick in the mirror, but they are both rubbish at it. Harry takes the lipstick and brings it up to Louis’ lips. It’s much easier that way.

“That worked, but I feel like we should have a good snog before I do yours, and then you can do mine again. Lottie said lipstick is super annoying and you can’t do anything while wearing it.” Louis is full of good ideas. There is something so exciting about being in a men’s bathroom, looking like this, putting on make-up.

They’re pretty close to getting their cocks out, but someone comes in. Harry resents the intruder.

“That lipstick is definitely messed up,” Harry wipes off the first lot of lipstick with a bit of loo roll and gently paints Louis’ lips again. Then Louis does Harry’s lips and gives him an earring.

They look amazing in the mirror. So gay.

“I kind of wish I’d brought my camera,” Harry had decided to take the night off photography, to experience it without a camera lens, “But I can only take black and white pictures, and that would have been hopelessly inadequate to capture our beauty.”

They laugh and get themselves another drink.

Harry is on the door for the first hour. Louis sits with him for most of it. He is excellent at getting money out of people, laughing and flirting and telling them he is a miner.

Louis has to leave when it’s time for him to speak. Harry hears him through the door. He’s brilliant, as usual. The first act has finished their set before Harry manages to persuade other Harry and Antonio – who are rostered to take over – that they can snog just as well on the door as anywhere else.

Dancing with Louis is amazing – it’s the first time they’d danced together and the freest Harry has ever felt. They lose themselves in the sound of the beat, but find each other. They touch and kiss and the beat keeps going.

People give Louis drinks and he gives some of them to Harry, so they don’t even need to leave the dance floor for that. It’s hot and alive and electric.

Once the set is finished, they sit down at one of the tables with Nick. Louis acquired a sailor’s hat at some point in the evening. It makes his outfit even more amazing. No-one has ever looked hotter than he looks as he lights a cigarette.

“You were fortunate you nabbed your miner when you did, or everyone would be all over him.” Nick tells him.

“The luckiest,” Harry grins.

“Course the same is true for you. You young, beautiful people continue to be in love, while I die of old age alone in the corner.”

“Oh Nick, one day Morrissey will stop taking over the world and come back to Manchester, and realise that he loves the guy he met at a party once.” Harry is talking a lot of nonsense. He hadn’t realised he’d drunken that much. “And until then, surely there is one man in this beautiful, beautiful, beautiful room who can distract you from him.”

“You’re obnoxious when you’re happy, Styles.”

They dance some more. The Redskins are happy and energetic and so hardcore.

Is Louis drunk? Possibly it’s Harry that is drunk. Or they both are.

Either way, Harry suddenly realises that Louis isn’t here and he needs to find him. He goes to the toilets and Louis is throwing up. That’s not good. Poor Lou. Harry rubs Louis’ back and waits for him to stop, because there’s nothing else he can do. The paper towel dispenser is empty, so he wets some loo roll under water and wipes Louis’ mouth.

Then he leads Louis outside, hoping the fresh air will help.

“Ssss Thatcher.”

“What?” Is Louis saying mean things about his shirt? It’s a beautiful shirt. He looks pink and gay.

“Thatcher’s fault. I never got sick before. But now. I didn’t much for too long. And everyone was so nice. So many drinks.” Louis sits down.

Harry sits beside him.

“That’s what you said last time you got drunk.”

“Do you think you could take me home? I don’t want to be here anymore, where everyone loves me for being a miner. Too much. Can’t be a miner.”

“Home?” How could Harry get Louis to Edlington?

“To your bed. You have a very nice bed, and it has you in it, which is very nice. Bed and you is home. But I don’t know where it is anymore.”

Harry would have done anything Louis asked, but he particularly wants to do this. Wants to take Louis to bed. He likes Louis in his bed. Or maybe Nick’s flatmate’s bed – sneaking anywhere would be a challenge.

He manages to get upright and drags and then pulls Louis with him. The trip home is long. There are stops to look at things and to sit down and to throw up.

But finally they make it. Harry brings a mug upstairs and fills it from the bathroom tap. He makes Louis drink one mugful, drinks another himself, and then fills the mug again and takes it back to the bedroom.

“Thank you, you’re very nice to me, Harry. Bringing me here and having sex with me and being my boyfriend, it’s very nice.”

He puts his hand on Harry’s face.

“Would you still love me if I wasn’t a miner? I think you would. Not like everyone in there. Real live miner and gay. So exciting, so exotic, let’s get him very drunk, because of Thatcher.”

Louis drinks the water Harry puts in front of him.

“They’re closing the pit.”

It takes a while for Harry to realise that Louis is telling him important new information, not just more general blaming of Thatcher.

“They announced it on Friday. They’re reviewing us and we’ll have a chance to lift productivity. That’s what they say when they’re pretending there’s a chance, but there isn’t. And it drags on and on for ages, and you have to work so hard to try and save jobs and it never works. Why do I still have to save jobs? I tried all year to save jobs and now I have to try more. And it won’t work. I won’t have a job. I won’t be a miner. I won’t be anything. And then no-one will love me.”

Louis starts crying at that, and Harry feels sober. He gets Louis’ head into his lap, and starts stroking it. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You’ll still be Lou, and I’ll still love you, whatever happens to the pit.” Harry repeats his love, and gently touches Louis’ hair, until Louis stops crying enough to talk.

“I should have told you when I got here, but I didn’t want to think about it. But now I’m being a big baby and crying over you because I’m really drunk.”

Harry can’t help but smile, “It’s alright. Tell me more about it.”

Louis starts to describe the process of pit closures, but Harry doesn’t understand much of it. He doesn’t know that’s because Louis is drunk or Harry’s drunk or if it’s just too complicated.

“What does it mean for you?”

“It means I have to work extra hard until they decide to actually close it, and then I’ll be out on my ear. Twenty one and used up, not needed. It’s horrid. They’re screwing the last little bit from us for the pit, before they throw us all away to punish us.”

Harry remembers those times during the strike when they’d dreamed of After. Louis had talked of coming to Manchester and being here with Harry. He doesn’t ask though. Not when Louis is in this state.

Instead he gets a warm flannel and gently washes Louis’ face. Makes Louis brush his teeth and take his clothes off, and they get into bed.

“Sorry I got so drunk. I wanted to try things tonight. Beautiful, sexy things with you.”

“That’s alright, we can try things tomorrow.”

They don’t. They both feel terrible in the morning, so they go and get a fry up. Harry thought about enticing Louis into another romantic bath, but there isn’t time. Blowjobs seem to be the way to go. It isn’t until they are walking to the station that Harry feels he can bring up what Louis said last night.

“I’m sorry about your pit.” Harry doesn’t know how you’re supposed to start a conversation like this.

“I’m should have told you sober. I bet I didn’t even make much sense.”

“You kept blaming Thatcher for you being so drunk.”

Louis laughs at that, “Thanks for putting up with me.”

Harry wants to grab Louis’ hand, or give him a kiss or something.

“Lou, always.”

Louis explains it again, and the logistics of it make more sense today. Or at least Harry is better at grasping the key ideas. Yorkshire Main is on the list of possible closures. They are going to try and make more coal so they won’t get closed.

Louis gets distracted by a Boots. He wants to buy his sister some nail polish. Harry helps him choose – they end up getting a beautiful bright green. Louis also gets the latest Spare Rib for Fizzy, and some stickers for the twins.

“They haven’t had a nice time for a while, and since I’ve had one I think I should bring them back presents.” They are sitting in the waiting room. The train is due in twenty minutes.

“You had a nice time?” It seemed to involve a lot of crying and throwing-up.

“Of course – I was with you.” It just takes Harry’s breath away when Louis talks like that. When Louis talks like that about him. “Sorry, I know I wasn’t as much fun as I could have been.”

“Even drunk you’re perfect. When will you be able to come back?”

They make plans. Louis will visit before the end of April – hopefully the middle weekend. Then he’ll try and come every other weekend. Harry will ring him on the weekends when he doesn’t. They’ll talk to each other, if only for a few minutes, every week.

Harry doesn’t ask about Louis’ longer term plans. If he still wants to come here and be with Harry.

_16 April 1985_

“Nick, if I ask a question will you promise not to make fun of me?” Nick has bought some chips and Harry is helping him eat them.

“No.” Harry is expecting that answer and is going to ask anyway.

“You know… sex.” Harry wishes he was better at bringing this up.

“I do know sex, young Harry, and anyone would make fun of you for asking that question.” Nick says.

“How do you make it go longer?” Harry immediately puts his head on his hands.

“Oh Harry.” Nick sounds very amused and ruffles his hair. “Is this for you, or for your miner?”

Harry sticks his fingers up at Nick.

“I bet it’s both of you. It’s months you don’t see each other. Under those circumstances, no-one is going to last. My first piece of advice is try and see him more than once every two months.”

Harry decides to live here in the comfort of his arms forever.

“Tease him.” Harry looks up. “Get him so he’s just about to come and then stop for a bit and do it all again. Makes everything go a lot longer.”

“Does that work?” Harry can feel how pink he is, but he’s started a sex conversation and he’s going to continue.

“Yes – maybe – I don’t know. It’s fun, who cares?” Nick is looking quite pink now himself. “Your miner, is he treating you right?”

“It’s wonderful.”

“So why are you complaining to poor, single me, when my true love is currently in the United States?” Harry is not going to let this turn into yet another conversation about how Morrissey needs to realise he is in love with Nick.

“It’s just – I know nothing. I’ve only ever been with Louis. And he says he likes it and that I shouldn’t worry, but I want to be good for him.”

Nick puts his hand on Harry’s. “Look love, you should listen to him if he says he likes it. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to go longer or try new things.”

He then stares at Harry for a few seconds like he’s trying to figure something out.

“How about I lend you a book?”

“A book?” They have books on stuff like this?

“A nice book that talks about the different things you can do, so you don’t have to ask me awkward questions and rub your happiness in my face.”

At the next Lesbian and Gay Soc meeting, Nick gives Harry a book called _The Joy of Gay Sex_. Just the cover makes Harry blush a lot. Nick makes Harry take a whole bunch more condoms and promise that he always uses them, before he’ll let him have the book. Harry makes sure it’s right at the bottom of his rucksack.

Over the next few visits, Harry discovers that he likes teasing Louis, and he likes the other way even more. They read the book Nick gave him together – or rather, pieces of it. Harry read the whole thing several times over before showing it to Louis.

They go out dancing sometimes and to pubs sometimes. Harry takes Louis to the charity shop and they each buy a few tops that they can wear to look fabulous. They have a lot of fun.

Harry suggested that he make Louis weekends darkroom-free weekends. But Louis asks about his portfolio and how much work he has to do, until Harry admits that he’d have to work long hours the rest of the time for that to work.

“Why don’t I come with you to the darkroom and be your assistant? I can watch my clever boyfriend look dead sexy developing photographs. And I can give you rewards when you’re good.”

So they do. Louis is explaining what’s happening with his pit, while Harry develops photographs. Harry can’t figure out what anything Louis is saying means – for Louis or for them. Mostly Louis talks about the nature of the seam, and Harry can’t help thinking of clothes, although he knows that isn’t what Louis is saying. Harry wants to ask – when will Louis know? And what is he going to do? But he doesn’t.

Harry’s pegging up a photograph when Louis calls him over.

“Have you done enough for a reward?” Louis is always trying to distract Harry with blowjobs by calling it a reward.

“Just a little one.” Harry is not going to be that distracted yet. But he straddles Louis, who is sitting down on a rickety chair, and gives him a kiss.

“Darling, you know that book of Nick’s?”

“I definitely haven’t done enough for a book sized reward.”

“No, I just want you to know that if there’s anything you might want to try in the future, you can tell me. You don’t have to want to do it straight away – or even ever. You can tell me things you find hot.”

Harry’s mouth goes a bit dry and he buries his face in Louis’ neck so he doesn’t have to look at him.

He whispers, “There might be.” Almost hoping Louis won’t hear.

“No pressure, darling. I love being with you. Anytime you want to tell me things that turn you on, I’ll listen.” And Louis nips Harry’s earlobe with his teeth.

Turns out, Harry has done enough for a reward.

_13 May 1985_

Talking with Louis on the phone is no substitute for Louis visiting. It’s lovely to hear his voice. But Harry is in a corridor, and he knows that Louis is sitting on the stairs. There’s so much they can’t say.

“I might be able to work full-time, or near full-time, at Boots over the summer. They’d sort of mentioned it as a possibility, but today they told me they would be able to offer me extra hours and they’ll know how much in a couple of weeks.”

Harry wants to know what Louis thinks. What Louis is planning this summer.

“That sounds exciting. You’d get a bigger discount on film if you worked more hours, yeah?”

“Yeah – the problem is finding accommodation in Manchester can be difficult and I’d have to figure out where I was planning on living.” Harry gives Louis another chance. Louis’ plans matter if he’s looking for accommodation.

“And living in Manchester over summer might eat up all you earn. You’ll know more soon, right?”

Harry agrees that he will know more soon and Louis’ starts asking him about his portfolio. He always says such nice things about Harry’s photos.

*

_9 June 1985_

The view out the train window has changed over the last few months as the weather got warmer. Louis won’t take this train for at least a month. At the end of June, he’s going down to London for Pride

Apparently half of South Wales is going down to show their appreciation for LGSM London. LGSM Manchester hadn’t raised quite so much money for Yorkshire Main, although when he’d brought back the money from the fundraising gig, Sam had almost cried. Stan had asked if he could take the banner for Yorkshire Main, and Louis’ family were coming too.

He’s going to stay home for the next two weekends. Harry’s final project is due the week before Pride, and he needs to work on it without distractions. The twenty days before Pride stretch out before Louis bleak and endless. He’s going to miss Harry so very much.

He tries not to think about the coal they’d produced on Friday. There wasn’t enough. It wasn’t increasing. The Coal Board will probably close the pit even if they do increase the output. But it’ll be easy for them.

Everyone knows it. The tension is horrible. He knows he’s luckier than most. He isn’t looking at a long list of debts. Even his family’s debts aren’t much compared to half the village. Everyone is in debt, and no-one knows how they can pay any of it back if the mine closes. They can transfer, sure, but how long will the next pit stay open?

He can’t think about the pit’s future. He can’t think about any of it. He’s been shutting everything out by dreaming of visiting Harry, but he can’t now. He tries to imagine what Pride will be like instead.

_14 June 1985_

Louis is having a shit Friday. Coal was down today. Not just not up, but down. He’d been in the lift shaft on the way back up with Jack, who had run his mouth about faggots, aimed at Louis. He only did it because he knew that no one else in the lift was the sort who would say anything.

Louis goes for a pint after work and immediately regrets it. He is supposed to be saving money.

When he gets home, the girls are watching hugely annoying drivel on TV, and there’s nothing better on.

“I might go and have a bath.” It won’t be like a bath with Harry, which is what he really wants right now, but he could get some of the coal dust off proper.

“Sorry, love. The twins were covered in paint when they came home from school, so I stuck them in the bath. They messed around a lot and used all the hot water. It should be alright for a bath before bed, but you’ll have to wait.”

He doesn’t want Mum to feel bad, but he is mad at the twins. He remembers moving in with Dad when he was very little and how careful Mum taught him to be with the hot water, so Dad could have his bath.

“Are they some sort of changelings? Did the twins I know who have lived with miners all their life get replaced with some know-nothings from London? Used all the hot water – Jesus.”

“So you think you’re better than us, because you’re a man? You sound like my friend Clare’s Dad,” Fizzy puts her oar in. Louis has heard Clare’s Dad talking down the pit. He is nothing like him. He knows that for sure.

“Fuck off, Fizzy. It’s harder to get clean if you spend 40 hours working down a mine than if you spend your week doing sums.”

He stomps upstairs and lies on his bed. He shouldn’t have sworn at his sister. He shouldn’t have been mean to the twins. Mum would be blaming herself, all because Louis can’t keep it together.

He should write to Harry, do something besides sit here feeling sorry for himself. But he can’t face that either.

After he’s been lying there for a while, Mum comes up with a cup of tea.

“You don’t need to coddle me, just because I’m in a mood, Mum. I’m sorry for swearing at Fizzy and making such a big deal of it all. I’ll apologise to them.”

“Oh love,” She sits on his bed and takes his head in her lap. “I’m sorry there wasn’t water for you when you wanted to have a bath. I did give the twins a right scolding. They should have known better.”

Louis almost starts crying then and there. He just wants to tell someone how scared and upset he is about everything that is coming and how hard it is to live in one place and want to be in another. But he makes himself keep it together. Mum would be even more upset if he talked about the possibility of leaving.

“Not your fault Mum. Fizzy was right – I’d be acting like Clare’s dad if I make it your responsibility to get me a bath.”

Mum laughs “You’re a good lad, Louis. And nothing like that man. I’m very lucky. You know you can talk to me if anything is bothering you.”

He gives her a kiss and finishes his cup of tea. He heads back downstairs and apologises to Fizzy and the twins.

Fizzy looks worried, which makes Louis feel worse. He tells her that he likes that she is fighting for herself and she is right about some of the stuff about how mining communities prioritised men. “I wouldn’t mind the twins having the hot water if they needed it, it’s the wasting.”

Fizzy nods and tells him he’s not really a male chauvinist pig and things seem alright, but Louis feels terrible.

The phone rings. It’s probably Harry. Louis is in such a state, he’s not sure he wants to talk, but he answers it.

It is Harry. Louis asks about Harry’s photography – wanting Harry to talk, wanting to listen to him.

Harry talks about the project – it sounds so good. Louis is going to get to see the final version one day and he’ll be even prouder than he is now.

“Boots have said they want me full time for the entire summer.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know.” There is a lot of silence. Harry wants to say something or wants Louis to.

“I don’t know where I’d live.”

Harry wants Louis to have an opinion on this. That’s what’s going on. To say something, to be for or against Harry staying all summer in Manchester.

But Louis can’t do it. He isn’t for or against anything. He doesn’t know what’s going on, or what he wants. It isn’t….

“We talked about finding somewhere together, after the strike.” Louis sits down on the steps and rubs his eyes. Why is Harry pushing this now?

“We did.” Is all he can manage.

“So, you were just humouring me. You didn’t want it?”

“No that’s not…” Harry is getting worked up – upset and Louis doesn’t even know how to stop it.

“You said when the strike was over and the strike is over.”

“I didn’t know they’d try and close my pit.”

“Yes, you did. You said that all the time, every time you talked you said ‘if we lose, all the pits will be closed’. And now you lost and your pit is closing. It’s not a surprise.”

Louis feels tears on his cheeks – how can Harry talk about it like that?

“I’ve got to go.”

“Wait…”

“I can’t, I’ve got to….” Harry must have heard Louis cry before he hangs up the phone. Louis heads straight up to his room and curls up into a little ball.

Later he has a bath, he gets himself clean. It doesn’t help.

Louis is at a loose end the next day and doesn’t know what to do. He’s never had a boyfriend before and doesn’t know what you’re supposed to do when you have a fight. Let alone when you have a fight because your boyfriend is a dumb idiot from Cheshire who has nothing to do but roll around in money and laugh at people who work.

Louis kicks a stone. He could go find Stan and tell him all about it.

He could call Harry. It’s expensive, but probably not more expensive than a round of drinks. He doesn’t have Harry’s number. Harry had always called him. How do you ring a student anyway?

What would he say to Harry? If he said anything, he’d probably start to cry again. Just thinking of talking to Harry makes the words ‘you lost’ echo around in his head.

He buys a packet of fags and smokes a couple.

Mum is working today, maybe he could go and say hi. It’s better than moping around feeling sorry for himself. Or trying to tell the story to Stan.

Mum is pleased to see him. He used to come and visit when she was working weekend shifts more often, but then the strike happened and there was always something to do. Looking at the babies makes him feel a little better. He remembers when the twins were little, their tiny hands holding his.

“I’m going for lunch love. Do you want to come help me eat some chips?”

“Daft question.” Louis replies.

Over the chips, he starts to tell her what happened. That he thinks Harry wants him to move to Manchester, although he hasn’t actually said it. That they’d made plans together during the strike. That they’d had a weird fight where Harry had wanted something from him. How horrible it is to be in limbo where the pit might close, but Louis has a job.

“I’m so scared Mum. What if it’s the dole for me. And the only choice I get is where I live?”

He basically talks all the way through her break. She says to stay around ‘til the shift change and then they’ll head back home together and they can talk more.

Louis doesn’t mind waiting. When Mum gets off shift, she tells him to come to the cafe and she’ll get him a hot chocolate and a treat. Just like they’d done when he was a kid and he came to visit in her at the hospital.

He gets a hot chocolate and piece of bakewell tart, and she gets a cup of tea and a scone. As soon as they sit down, Mum starts talking.

“I don’t know about Harry, sorry. I don’t know what’s happening there. You know him better than I do. But your life…”

She butters her scone and then puts her knife down.

“I’ve been thinking about what to say all through the last bit of my shift. Because I don’t want any of this to be true. You know what I said – when… All I wanted for you was a secure job and a nice girl. And if you want a nice boy instead, that’s fine. But I think you have to imagine what your life would be like if you weren’t a miner. Because pits are going to keep closing. You can work in them for a few more years, if that’s what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be able to be a miner when you’re my age.”

Louis knows she is right, but no one has ever put it that bluntly before.

“You have a choice, love – you can request a transfer. You could get a few more years’ work. But it’ll be a few more years, not a lifetime. And I think it’s good to start thinking what your life might be like after coal. You could imagine any life. Maybe it’s in Manchester. I’d love it if it’s in Edlington. But you could go to London, or Europe, or America. You’re so young, my love. It’s a big world.”

“I can’t yet.” She is right, she is right, she is right, she is right. But Louis isn’t sure what to make of that, not while the pit is still open.

“You can start thinking about what comes next now. Maybe you can’t leave until they shut the pit down.” Mum has clearly committed to telling the truth. No-one has said ‘when’ yet. “But you can have your dreams. And if your boy is any good, you can talk about your dreams with him.”

Louis hasn’t thought about anything much since the end of the strike. During the strike, there had been so much to hope for and that had all been taken away. Now, all he can do is count the days till he sees Harry again.

“They are going to close the pit, aren’t they?” He’s been telling himself that he hated the uncertainty all this time, but there isn’t uncertainty – not really. He knows what’s going to happen.

“I don’t think they fought us for a year so they could keep all the pits open.”

Louis just sits there for a few moments. He’d known, of course he’d known on some level, but talking to Mum makes it real.

“What will you and Dad do?” They are in debt, and Mum isn’t taking much of his money any more.

“I think we’ll have to think a bit about what our lives look like now the strike is over. We don’t have to know straight away. I think your Dad will apply for a transfer, but it’s not going to be like that forever.”

“I love you, Mum” He doesn’t say that as often as he used to, but he always feels it. “And I’ll always... If I’m in Manchester or London or somewhere for a bit. I’ll always come back.”

He tries to do what she says, tries to imagine another life, but he can’t.

“It’s just so hard, Mum. I wasn’t good enough for anything else.”

“Listen love.” Mum sounds quite fierce, which he hadn’t expected. “It’s all nonsense, all of it. You’re as clever as anyone else, and you shine like a star.”

Louis shrugs, embarrassed. Mum has to say that.

“No, listen. The strike shows you can do all sorts of things you didn’t know you could do. It showed me that too, even your sisters in different ways. You’re young. You can have any sort of life you want.”

“I’m not young, Mum – lots of the girls in my year at school are pregnant.”

“And unlike their lads, you don’t have to worry about that, or supporting a family.”

“It’s real hard to get a job. Everyone says.”

“Yes love, and I wish it was different and we fought so hard for it to be different. But it is what it is, and I know there’s so much happiness in your future.”

They leave after that. Louis feels wrung over – like the mangle over the washing machine they’d had at Granny’s when he was little.

Louis tries to take Mum’s advice. He tries to imagine what his life could be like. He can’t stop thinking of Harry. He’s got to write to him.

It’s hard writing to Harry. Part of Louis is still angry and wants to say that. There’s so much in his head that he has to sort out. The letter isn’t good, isn’t everything he wants to say. But it’ll have to do

On Sunday, Louis is a bit relieved that Harry doesn’t phone him. He’s put everything down in that letter, he doesn’t want to have to say it again.

On Monday, Harry still doesn’t ring, and Louis is not relieved.

On Tuesday, the phone rings. It’s after eight. Louis had given up at eight. Fizzy rushes to answer – it’s probably one of her friends.

She sounds quite put out when she calls for Louis. Tells him it’s Harry.

“Hello.”

“Louis.”

Louis sits down on the stairs and puts his head in his hands.

“I just got your letter. I got in so late from the darkroom yesterday that I didn’t check my pigeon-hole. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“Harry…” Louis doesn’t know what he wants to say, but he hears how upset Harry is.

“Thanks for your letter. That’s all I wanted. To know that you want to be with me. I don’t care about the when and the how. I was just scared that you didn’t want that.”

“Oh, Haz.” For the first time since Friday, Louis understands what Harry needs and knows what to say. “Of course I did. I always did.” He reassures Harry some more and they both say sorry.

Louis is worried that their fight had messed up Harry working on his final project. Harry tells him that on Sunday he’d taken refuge in the darkroom. Monday too.

“I should go. This is expensive for you. We can talk more in London? You go smash that final project.”

“I will. Love you.”

“I love you Harry. So much. I promise.”

Louis sat on the stairs for a long time. Then he wipes his tears from his face and has a bath.

_29 June 1985_

Mum drives Louis, Stan, Lottie, Fizzy, Sam and the carefully wrapped banner down to London. After what Louis suspects was several long discussions between Mum and Dad, it has been decided that the twins are too small to come and it would have been a bit of a squeeze with all the girls in the boot. Stan’s van is off the road after having done some hard miles during the strike.

They leave early – way too early everyone agrees. Early enough that, after only an hour on the road, Mum stops at the service station and buys everyone tea and crisps and won’t be paid back no matter how much Stan and Sam try. (Louis has better strategies and will just put a few pound coins in her purse at some point and she won’t know. Or she probably will know, but won’t be able to stop it.)

The nice thing about an early drive is that he is able to sleep most of the way. It’s a good thing he does. When he wakes up, Lottie is immediately annoyed at him for jittering too much. He is going to go on a Pride march and seeing Harry – how can she expect him to be still?

They park at the same tube station they’d parked at when they came down to London for protests during the strike. Louis hasn’t been to London that many times, but he loves the tube. He loves escalators, he loves going underground and having so much space, compared to a mine. He loves the feeling that you can go in and come out anywhere.

He doesn’t love navigating the tube with a banner. Louis tries not to get too distracted noticing other men who are going to Pride.

When they get to the starting point, Louis doesn’t know where to look. He’s not prepared for how gay it is, or how gay it feels. It’s overwhelming to see so many people who aren’t hiding.

And, right near the front, there are all these union banners. Louis has a picture of him holding hands with his Great-Grandad, marching behind his pit banner. To see the mining banners alongside men in tiny shorts and outrageous make-up – it’s not something Louis could have dreamed of.

“Come on love,” Mum says. “Let’s go join them.”

London LGSM are there, Louis can recognise Mike and Mark from the meeting.

“You came from Yorkshire?” Mark comes up to him. “That’s fabulous, what are you doing tonight?” Mark is just as charming and possibly even less subtle than he had been in Manchester, but Louis is less overwhelmed by him, or the idea of him.

“I’m meeting up with my boyfriend. He’s come down from Manchester.”

Mark looks at Stan holding the other end of the banner. “Did they know before?”

“This isn’t the whole branch, it’s just a couple of my close friends, my Mum and sisters. I told my Mum after Manchester LGSM came to visit.”

“And she’s here?”

Louis nods and points out Mum, who appears to be arguing with Fizzy.

Mark gives him a hug. “That’s…. I’m so glad for you. There’s a lot here today to give you hope for the world.”

Mark goes off then to organise things and charm the pants off other men. Louis can’t move around much because he’s sharing the banner with Stan. He had thought of trying to persuade Stan and Sam to carry it. Who knows what exciting things will be going on behind him? But to be here, on his first Pride, carrying his union banner – he is going to take that opportunity. He isn’t going to have another one, as far as he can tell.

He looks around hoping to see someone he knows from Manchester. Well, he wants to see Harry, but any sign that Harry is there would be good – even Nick’s ridiculous hair.

Louis wishes they hadn’t had that argument. That he’d known the right thing to say. Harry had said that he was coming down, but what if he’s not? What if Harry stayed home?

Then, as the march is just about to depart, he sees Harry running towards them with the rest of Manchester LGSM behind. He gives the other end of the banner to Stan, so he can greet Harry properly.

Harry bowls Louis to the ground with a hug – well Louis is very willing to fall.

“I was so worried we were going to be late. Nick borrowed a van at the last minute, and there was nowhere to park. But I’m here and I’ve found you. Can I march with you? Even though I’m not a miner?”

“Of course.”

Nick and the rest of Manchester LGSM join the march with their banner.

“I know we’ve got to talk about stuff, but can we ignore that during the march? I just want to enjoy everything.” Harry asks.

“Oh, darling, of course.” Louis gives Harry a hug and almost clobbers him with the banner pole.

Harry is looking around even more wide-eyed than Louis feels.

“Is this your first march?”

Harry nods, “There aren’t many marches in Holmes Chapel.”

“I’ve been to a few over the last eighteen months, but they’re not all like this. If you want to go back and explore the rest of the march, you should.”

But Harry doesn’t, he walks alongside Louis and the Yorkshire Main banner the entire way. Lottie stays with them too. Eventually Mum and Fizzy go backwards to find whoever it was Fizzy wants to join.

Louis hadn’t known how divided he’d been, how much he’d split himself up into pieces, because he didn’t know it could be any other way. Now he’s on a Pride march with his family, his friends, his boyfriend and his union. He squeezes Harry’s hand, and Harry squeezes back.

The march pauses in a junction with lots of lights. Fizzy and Mum come back and join them.

“Men were carrying the Pride banner up ‘til now and now women are carrying it.” Fizzy approves.

“Thanks for coming here with me.” He has to pass the banner off to Harry for a while so he can hug them all.

It will be alright. Whatever happens next, it’ll be alright.

They cross over the Thames. When they reach the end of the bridge, Louis turns back and sees how long the march is, how far he’s travelled.

The end point is a park by the river, and everyone just wants to lie down. Louis wants to talk with Harry properly. The speeches seem like a good time to do that.

“Hey, Mum, I might go off with Harry. Is that alright?” The others are driving back tonight, but he’s going to catch a train tomorrow.

Mum gives him a big hug and won’t let go. She whispers “Thank you” and “I love you” and “I’m so proud of you” into his hair. He lets himself be held, and whispers back.

When she lets go, she says, “You go and enjoy yourself, love. Thank you for taking me here, and for telling me, and for being the best son a mother could want.” It’s so nice of her to say that, even though in some ways it can never be true.

*

Harry is taking a photograph of banners when Louis comes back from talking with his Mum.

“I wish I could take pictures in colour. Pride needs colour film.”

“I’ve said goodbye to everyone – so we could go and find a place to talk?”

“You’ve… Really? Alright.”

They hold hands, and they can do that without one ounce of fear. When they get near the back of the park, facing the river, Louis lies on the grass and Harry sits next to him.

“Marching is tiring.” Someone should have warned Harry.

They don’t say anything for a while. Harry puts his head on Louis’ tummy and things seem so good. Harry knows he should say something, but he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He’s finally with Louis. He doesn’t want to say any of the things that have been rattling around his head since that awful night when Louis had gone silent and then hung up.

“I always wanted to be with you. I’m sorry you didn’t know, but I always did.”

Harry had read Louis’ letter, and he’s said as much over the phone. But hearing it when their bodies are touching – he’s getting close to believing it.

“It felt so unreasonable to ask you. If you moved to Manchester, you’d be giving up your whole life. And so I didn’t. And I became so scared that you didn’t want to be with me.” Harry rolls over and pushes himself up so he can look at Louis. “I want to be with you for years. Just in case you didn’t know that. That’s what I want.”

“Oh, Harry.” Louis says. “I want years too. Years and years.”

Harry feels tears in his eyes and lies back down on Louis and cuddles into him. Louis cuddles back.

“What I said during the strike – it was real and I did mean it. But it was easy to say because the future was so unimaginable. By the time I met you, most of the time it was hard to imagine winning – and I wasn’t able to imagine losing ‘til it happened. Still can’t. But I do want to be with you.”

“I’m sorry for what I said.” Harry had slowly realised how big and wrong what he’d said was. He doesn’t know how to make it better now.

“Please don’t – not again – I can’t…” Louis doesn’t finish any of his sentences.

“I’ll try. I might say the wrong thing, but I promise you I’ll try.” Harry never wants to hear Louis devastated like he was on that phone call. He wants to make Louis happy.

Harry feels Louis’ hands in his hair.

“We can do this, can’t we? Even though we say the wrong thing sometimes.”

“Yes.” Yes, yes, yes. Harry sits up and straddles Louis. He leans forward and gives him a kiss. “Thank you.”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist.

“I guess when we were on strike, I got to imagine that we’d won and that I was choosing not to be a miner. I probably would have found it hard to think about leaving if we’d won. But it feels so much worse now – when I have no choices left.”

“You’re amazing, Louis, you could do so many things.” Louis could run the world.

“Well my Mum and my boyfriend think so, so that’s good. But to the world at large I’ll just be another lad on the dole.”

They just lie there touching and looking at the sky. Occasional words of what is probably a speech drift over to their corner of the park: ‘liberation’ ‘bars’ ‘chocolate’. The last one probably isn’t chocolate.

“We’re going to know soon.”

“Whether the pit will close?” Harry asks.

“It’s going to close. As Mum said – they didn’t fight for a year to keep pits open. By the end of July we should get a date of closure, and they’ll start sorting out redundancy and transfers. Would you wait for me ‘til then?”

“Of course.” It was never about the waiting.

“It’s not ‘of course’. You shouldn’t have to wait around for me. You can have a proper boyfriend who can be there all the time and actually do some of the things in Nick’s book that we’ve only talked about.”

“I’d rather have you than anyone else. Even the person who wrote Nick’s book.”

“You know how you were worried that asking me to come to Manchester was unreasonable? I’m worried asking you to wait is unreasonable. Particularly because I don’t know how long it’ll be. ‘Please wait for me until I’m prepared to think about losing the strike’ sounds a bit unfair.”

Harry crawls on top of Louis so he can give him a proper kiss.

“You’re an idiot. I don’t mind waiting for you, as long as you want me.”

They lie there, all tangled up in each other, warm from the sun. Even with his eyes closed, Harry knows there’s a massive parade out there, a parade of everything Harry’s feeling right now.

“Oi – lovebirds”! That’s Nick. “I see you there practically having sex and bringing the entire parade into disrepute.”

“We aren’t even snogging.” Louis says. That sounds a little bit like a challenge.

“Oh God, were you being romantic? That’s worse. I hope you’ve solved whatever has had Harry mope around the place like a sad bird. Anyway, I saw you and thought I better tell you now, because I might not find you later. We’re going to an after party in a big squat near King’s Cross. Since I don’t imagine either of you love birds are any good at finding your way ‘round London I’ll meet you by the stage at 6 o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Nick wanders off again.

“Why do you think this particular after party?” Louis asks. “Has he found someone more dreamy than the guy from the band?”

“Definitely not, I think Nick likes being completely ignored by the objects of his fantasy. He sometimes hooks up with beautiful and seemingly nice men, and he’s never into them. The more famous the band guy gets, the more Nick likes him. He’s touring America now.”

They decide to do their bit to scandalise society by snogging in the park. It’s a blissful few hours lying on the grass, touching each other in the sun, snogging, talking and being together.

“Oh Haz. I’m sorry I couldn’t sort my head out enough to say that to you on the phone.” Louis interlaces his fingers in Harry’s, brings both their fingers up to his mouth and gives them a light kiss.

“And I’m sorry for saying the wrong thing.” Harry wants to keep on apologising. Wants to make sure Louis knows.

Louis is stroking Harry’s hair and calling him darling and telling him it’s alright. Harry can hardly remember the bleak, awful feeling when he felt like he’d ruined everything.

“But one more thing, about your letter.” He’s going to be brave.

“What?” Every point Louis’ body is touching Harry’s is glorious.

“I don’t want anyone else, and don’t suggest it again.” Harry’s voice wobbles at the end there. He was hoping it wouldn’t – that it could sound like a nice, normal thing to say. Not like the entire bottom of Harry’s world had dropped out when he read that.

Louis doesn’t say anything, but rolls over and kind of scoops Harry up so he’s holding as much as him as possible.

“You’re young and gay in Manchester. You can figure out what you want. I don’t want to take that away from you because I’m visiting every other week.”

Harry sits up. He’s not going to let Louis cuddle him when he’s saying that.

“Do you want to have sex with someone else, is that what this is about?”

Louis’ laughs, which just makes Harry madder. “In Edlington? And I’d choose you even if there were other options.”

“Why won’t you believe that I want you? Are you fobbing me off?”

“Oh, God no, Harry. If you did want to be with other people, I don’t know what I’d do. I’d hate it so much. I’m just scared I’m taking something important away from you.”

Harry lies back down against Louis again. It’s alright.

“Then don’t be an idiot. You’re not taking anything away for me. I can figure out what I want with you.”

“I’d love that. That’s all I want.”

Harry has been so scared of saying anything – like if he says anything he is feeling, everything would break. But it’s not like that. They’re lying together in the sun, and now Harry knows, really knows, how much Louis wants him.

At seven, Nick turns up at the meeting place he’d suggested (‘It’s your fault for believing me when I gave you a time Harry,’ is Nick’s response to a reminder that he’d said six sharp). Nick won’t go back to the van alone so Louis and Harry are left with him, while everyone else heads off to King’s Cross.

It’s a bad decision. Almost everyone else in Manchester LGSM must know London better than the three of them.

They find the van eventually and it doesn’t even have a ticket.

The only challenge now is to get to King’s Cross. Louis hops into the back of the van and leaves Harry to do the map reading. Harry thinks he maybe regrets this after the third wrong turn.

They do eventually make it to King’s Cross, and Nick finds the squat – even though he’s been useless for finding anything else (although that’s not fair, because he had taken them to a place that served delicious and cheap food).

The squat is on the top floor of some building turned into a flat, turned into a club. The proper party hasn’t started yet; people are setting up sound systems and smoking.

Harry sits down on a bean bag and pulls Louis down on top of him with the warm, glorious feeling of the afternoon in his bones and the knowledge no one will object. They continue as they had in the park. Touching, kissing, speaking occasionally, but mostly enjoying being reunited.

They aren’t the only couple taking advantage of the venue to be openly intimate with each other. It’s amazing to feel so normal. To see other people like them.

The squat gets fuller and fuller, and it becomes a real place to dance. After sitting lazily on the beanbag for quite a while, Louis and Harry get up and start dancing, and it’s glorious. The benefit gig was great, but Louis is fully with him now – not getting drunk as fast as he can.

Everything feels right with the world, and Harry is dancing with Louis. They get dirtier and dirtier – to be able to dance at all, let alone like this, is unlike anything Harry has ever felt.

Louis is trying to say something in his ear, but he can’t make it out so they go off to the side.

“How do you feel about public blow jobs?”

Harry isn’t sure. There are certainly a lot of people here who are pro public blow jobs. They wouldn’t be alone. There is something exciting about the idea, but not in a way that means he wants to do it right now.

“Let’s find somewhere more private then.” Louis responds to his pause.

They find a corridor and then a nook, and that’s private enough. Harry is pulsing with the beat, feeling Louis’ mouth on him in this incredibly erotically charged environment.

Harry realises that this must have been the squat that Nick had organised for them to stay in. They’re not going to get much sleep.

Louis laughs, “I don’t care. I want to spend all night – all eternity – dancing with you, and then sometimes finding dark corners so we can get each other off.”

They do.

The night is short though. And before Harry even realises it’s proper late, the sun is coming up. Everyone kind of keeps going.

“Haz – shall we go and find some food?” Louis has many brilliant ideas.

They eventually find their way out of the squat. The door is not where Harry remembers it.

There are lots of cafes open early ‘round King’s Cross. They each get a fry up and mug of tea.

“I really love you, Harry.” Louis says. “I can’t kiss you in this cafe, probably, but I want to.”

“I wish I could kiss you too.” The beauty and sappiness of the night feels heavy on Harry.

“Can we make a plan? We talked a bit before, but we didn’t make a plan.” Louis breaks the yolk of his egg and dips a chip in it.

“Yeah, that’d be amazing.” Harry says.

“I want to move to Manchester,” Louis pauses a little after that. “But not until the pit closes.”

Harry grabs Louis’ hand and squeezes it.

“It still feels a bit like a betrayal to say that.” And there’s an edge to Louis’ voice, as if he’s trying not to cry. “It might be a few months. Will that be all right? I can come down on weekends.”

“Weekends with you, knowing that you’ll move down when you can, is what I want.” Louis wants to move to Manchester, nothing else matters.

“Where are you going to live over summer? I hope I haven’t messed you up over that.”

“I hope it’s alright, but I didn’t wait for you to sort that out. Nick’s flatmate is going away for the summer so I have his room. You’ll be able to stay whenever you want, but I can afford the rent by myself.” Harry says.

“Good. I’m glad. You’re smart. I’m sorry that I-”

“No more sorries.” Harry interrupts. “You had a lot on your mind and you needed to sort it out and we’re great now. Over summer we’ll figure out what might work when you move to Manchester.”

When – Louis moving to Manchester – it’s a when now.

Harry remembers that he has important information to pass on. “Nick said to tell you that he can help you figure out what you’re entitled to for the dole and stuff if you sign on.”

“That’s scary to think about. But – thanks – I will talk to Nick.”

They finish their fry ups.

“I’m sorry it got so messy, Hazza. If I’d known all you wanted was to know I wanted you, I could have said that.”

“I should have asked earlier, before I’d half decided you weren’t serious.”

“We’ll get better at this? Being boyfriends? It’s alright that we’re a bit rubbish at it now?”

“I think we’re doing really good.” Harry means that. They’ve both been brave and said scary things, and now they’re sitting in a cafe making plans to move in together.

They drink their cups of tea very slowly. They say goodbye at the station.

_11 October 1985_

Louis expected his last day to feel heavy and sad, but instead he just wants to get it over with. None of what he will miss about being a miner is the coal itself, and now, on the last Friday of work, he never wants to see the stuff again. Never wants to be underground. Doesn’t want any of this. Also doesn’t want it to end.

They are met by the whole village at the end of shift and march their way to the Miners’ Welfare. People knows he’s leaving, which makes it harder. Lots of people had sought transfer. Dad will now have to drive almost an hour each end of his shift.

Later that night, Louis and Stan head out into the freezing cold and look at the silent pit.

Louis lights two fags and gives one to Stan.

“Thanks for everything.”

“For giving you cover so you could meet your gay lover?” Stan laughs at his accidental rhyming. “So, you’ve got something to go to with all the shit going on.”

“Someone – the dole is hardly something.”

“Someone is better than nothing.” After several stressful months, Stan’s charges had fallen apart on the first day of court, so he’d got his job back. Now he’s applied for a transfer. He wants to work at least another year. His family is in a lot of debt. Louis and Stan have talked a lot about how everything round here is going to change as the pits keep on closing. But Stan’s family needs the money now – he’ll figure out what is next later.

“You’ll come visit us in Manchester?”

“Course.” There is so much they could say, but it has been such a long fight, and a long time, and they don’t need to. They just smoke together.

_13 October 1985_

Mum is driving Louis to Manchester with everything he owns.

Saying goodbye to his sisters had been so hard. He’d promised to try and be back before Christmas. Mum hadn’t let him promise to bring presents. She’d told them he wasn’t to waste his dole money on them, but he will.

She’d been bossier than usual these last few days. He had told her that she didn’t need to drive him, that he could take the train. The petrol would be expensive. But she told him not to be daft. He was so happy that he’d get to drive with her, before he had to say goodbye, that he didn’t argue that much.

He is driving towards his flat. Nick found a squat a few months ago, and Harry went with him. They won’t have to worry about landlords and what they might notice. Particularly with Harry not 21 yet, a nosy, hateful landlord who knew a police officer could fuck everything up for them.

He’s been to the squat heaps, but he’s thought of it as Harry’s place. From today, it’s going to be his too. He hasn’t told Mum that it’s not a proper flat yet. Half way there seems like a good time to tell her.

She isn’t as worried as he thought she’d be.

“Is that what you weren’t telling me? I thought you were being vague for a reason. Do you have the furniture you need? If not, we can go to a charity shop and get anything extra.”

He asks her about work. He won’t get much of a chance to hear her talk until he comes home again, and he wants to listen now.

When they get to Louis’ new street, Mum says, “Well it doesn’t look too bad.” She is clearly determined to see the best. It’s a grotty neighbourhood.

Harry opens the door and Louis gets to hug him, which he’ll be able to do every day now. Harry hugs Mum as well. He takes the bag she’s carrying off her, and Louis goes and gets more from the car.

When he comes back, Harry is taking Mum upstairs to his room – it’ll be their room now.

When he gets there and puts his bag down, it’s not the room he’d stayed in two weekends ago. It has a double bed in it. They’ve never had a double bed. And, while Louis likes sleeping curled around Harry – think of the sex they could have in a double bed.

Except Mum is there so he tries not to.

“Where did it come from?” Louis asks Harry.

“One of Nick’s friends – it was a huge pain in the arse to get here, but totally worth it.” Louis can’t look at Harry while talking about a double bed in front of Mum.

“You’re lucky lads – I didn’t sleep in a double bed until I married your Dad. And I was older than you.” Mum is saying that! Louis doesn’t want to think about what she might be meaning.

He takes her on a tour of the rest of the house. She doesn’t say anything about the holes in the wall, or the places where the carpet has been taken up. She just says nice things about a poster supporting the miners, and another with a skeleton and a nuclear bomb.

“If I get some more time, I’d like to get involved in anti-nuke stuff. Fizzy’s inspired me. Got to make sure there’s still a world for you lot.” Mum gives him a hug. And Louis can’t stay there. Can’t think about the fact that he’s having to choose. Harry and their flat will mean that Mum is far away.

When they get to the kitchen, Harry is making tea for them.

“See, the kitchen has got a kettle and everything. That’s all I need.”

Louis’ Mum laughs at that.

Louis tries to concentrate on his tea, but all he can think of is that double bed and the things they can do on it. Louis decides to bring his boxes inside so he will stop thinking about sex in a double bed in front of Mum.

Once they’ve unloaded the car, Mum says: “There’s a couple of things I need to get while I’m in Manchester, so I’ll leave you to unpack and then I’ll take you out for lunch before driving back.”

Louis gives Mum a kiss goodbye and then him and Harry carry his boxes upstairs.

“We don’t have a chest of drawers so I thought we could keep our clothes in boxes,” Harry suggests, which makes unpacking even more minimal.

Louis still doesn’t do it. Instead, he lies down on the bed and spreads out his arms and legs as far as he can – they’re still on the bed.

“This is amazing Harry – think what we can do.”

Harry flops on top of him. “We can re-enact your starfish fantasy in comfort.”

Louis remembers saying he wants to feel as much of Harry touching him as possible. “I think we can do much sexier things. Like things from Nick’s book. I can’t believe you got it, you’re amazing.”

Harry turns over and starts kissing Louis.

Louis breaks the kiss. “Mum is probably coming back soon, unfortunately, but can we do exciting things in this beautiful bed tonight?”

“Yes – of course – and tomorrow and the next day.” Harry looks so happy.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“For what?” asks Harry.

“For being someone I could imagine a new life with. And for getting us a double bed.”

“Always.” Harry gets off Louis and starts looking at what’s in Louis’ boxes in an unpacking sort of way.

They haven’t done much when Mum gets back, but they’ve started. She takes both of them out to a pub for lunch. On the way back, she takes them to the Co-op and waits in the car while they buy food. Louis has no idea what they need until they go past it (they need cocoa pops, they definitely need cocoa pops). Harry has all these smart ideas about buying some things in bulk, because they can get them home in the car.

They have another cup of tea once they’ve unpacked the food, and then Mum says “Well I better be leaving you, and heading home.”

Louis doesn’t want her to go, but he can’t really be here with Harry while she’s here.

She gives Harry a big hug and is whispering things to him – Louis thinks they’re nice things.

“If you’re ever in trouble, you can always reverse the charges. I’m so proud of you – and whatever happens I’ll be so proud of you. And we’ll see you soon.” Louis puts his arms ‘round Mum’s shoulders and holds her tight.

“Love you Mum.”

Harry comes out with him to wave goodbye and they watch her drive away.

When they go back inside Harry gives Louis a hug. “Are you alright?”

“I’m happy to be here with you. It’s just – two days ago, I was down a mine.”

“Can I run you a bath?” Louis hadn’t known what he wanted, but now he does – he wants that.

Harry makes bubbles with shampoo, like he always does, and gets in first so Louis can sit between his legs.

Harry lathers up a flannel and starts washing Louis’ back.

“You won’t need to do this from now on. No more coal dust to wash off.”

“Do you like it?” Harry asks.

Louis nods; he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

“Then let’s keep doing it.”

Louis knows that some tears come to his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Instead, once Harry’s finished washing his back and Louis is lying on top of him in the bath, Louis says, “You’re perfect, you know that. Just perfect.”

When they get out of the bath, Harry chases Louis down the hall absolutely starkers, while Louis just has a very small towel on. He collapses on the bed, and Harry lies on top of him for the second time today. Lying naked on the bed, with Harry’s body pressing into his, is just as good as Louis imagined.

“We should christen this fancy new bed.” Harry leans down and kisses Louis.

Louis desperately wants to rut against Harry right now ‘til they both come, but he also wants to have special, amazing, celebrating Harry sex on the new bed.

He takes a deep breath and rolls over so they’re lying facing each other, rather than every move Harry makes creating more beautiful friction. They’re still both on the bed. Double beds are fabulous inventions.

“I wanted to do something special to celebrate.” Louis is nervous about this bit – the saying bit. But he wants to make sure it’s something Harry wants today, for all they’ve talked about it in general. Louis puts his hands up into Harry’s hair – the ends of the curls damp from the bath.

“Do you have things you want to do to me?” Always. Louis always has things he wants to do to Harry.

“I want to get my mouth on your arse.” Harry loves dirty talk and dirty letters. Bits of Louis can’t believe he says things like that, but giving Harry what he wants is more important.

“Is that – is it safe?” Harry asks.

And suddenly they’re not touching and the moment is broken.

More than distance, more than their own shyness in naming what they want, the long shadow of hideous death has stopped them exploring Nick’s book. For a long time, Louis ignored it and pretended that it didn’t exist and just agreed with whatever Harry did and didn’t want to do. Condoms whenever a cock went near a bum, blow jobs are fine, but nothing too adventurous.

But he knew that this was all because of him. Harry isn’t infected, Louis’s the one who might be, and he shouldn’t leave it all to Harry. One Saturday morning, when Harry had been at his job and Nick was in the kitchen, Louis had blurted out that Nick needed to tell him about the disease. Nick had teased him for being so demanding, but after Louis’d made him a cup of tea and found some biscuits, he’d been helpful. He was scared too, really scared, in a way Harry didn’t have to be. Nick has a friend who is involved with the Terrence Higgins Trust, and knows all the latest information from America. The next weekend Louis was in Manchester, Nick introduced him to the friend who had answered all his questions.

Now he can say yes to Harry.

“It’s blood we’ve got to be careful of, blood and semen. Rimming is less risky than a blowjob.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems so much more gay.”

Louis reaches across the gap between them and puts his hand on Harry’s hip.

“That’s what I said to Nick’s friend, but it’s not like that. It’s not a punishment from God. Some of the most amazing, perverted, gay things aren’t any riskier than things straight people do, like blowjobs.”

Harry looks like he’s thinking. Louis hopes it’s alright. He hadn’t exactly planned for this conversation, even though he sort of knew they were going to have to have it.

“If I lick your bum, the only way it could make you sick is if I have a sore or a cut on my mouth and you have one on your bum and some of my blood got into it. Nick’s friend said we shouldn’t do mouth stuff if either of us have sores or cuts on our mouths.”

“What would we do then?” Harry looks put out at this hypothetical.

“We’ve still got hands – I think we’ll be alright.”

“What if both my hands were cut off?”

“Then I’d call you No-Hand Harry and I’d just rub my cock against you ‘til you came.” Louis can see that Harry is getting hard again. “Do you want me to? I only want to do it if you want it too. There are lots of other exciting things we could do in this bed.”

“I want that. I want everything with you. I was afraid that we couldn’t do all the things I want so much because they’re dangerous.” Louis looks at Harry – checking he does actually want it.

“As long as we’re careful about cuts and use condoms, we can do whatever we want, darling. But only what we want.”

Harry untangles himself from Louis and lies down on his front. Louis continues to be amazed by the size of the bed.

“I want your mouth all over me.”

Louis just stares at Harry for a while, his back, his bum, his legs. He can touch and kiss and lick and suck, and he’ll be able to do the same tomorrow and the next tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that.

Louis runs his fingers gently down Harry’s thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry.”                                                                  

Louis kisses Harry on one of his shoulders. Harry wriggles as if Louis had tickled him.

“Not there?” Louis wants everything to be great for Harry.

“No – I like it. I’m just sensitive.”

Louis runs his tongue between Harry’s shoulder blades. His skin is still a little damp from the bath, and Louis can smell soap. “Let me know if I do anything you don’t like.”

Louis kisses his way down Harry’s back. He gently grazes his teeth against Harry’s skin on his hip. Harry’s hips are so soft and biteable. Harry makes a beautiful groaning noise – so Louis does it more. When he’s done, he can see the mark.

“Can you get on your hands and knees?”

Harry’s arse is right there, and Louis just stares at it for a moment.

He puts his mouth where Harry’s bum meets his right thigh and nips it with his teeth. He wants all of this: bum, thighs, hips and the rest of Harry. He wants to bite and suck and kiss and cherish. He wants to know every smell and every taste.

Louis leans forward and gets his tongue almost at Harry’s balls. He presses down on the soft smooth skin and then licks upward along Harry’s arse.

Harry makes a whining noise that Louis hadn’t heard before, so he does it again.

The taste is different from what Louis expected. There’s a clean soapiness from the bath, and then under that it tastes like Harry, or at least a more intense version of the smell that Louis associates with Harry.

Harry really likes it. He’s making lovely, amazing noises. Louis is so turned on by the smells, the sounds and the sight of Harry.

“Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue?”

Harry makes a noise that could be “Looooouuuuiiiiissssss” or could be “dooooo it” and definitely has an element of ‘stop asking stupid questions and fuck me with your tongue.’

Louis licks Harry’s arse crack again and then gently pokes his tongue forward. He feels the ring of muscles give way. He’s inside Harry in way he never has been before. The inside is brilliantly soft and Harry – Harry likes it. The noises he is making are even more intense than before. Louis flicks his tongue in and out and then pushes it in deeper and deeper.

His tongue gets tired – it’s very different from giving a blowjob. He could just lean around and bring Harry off with his hand, but he has a better idea.

He kneels up on the bed. “Do you want to ride me?”

Harry collapses forward onto his forearms.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you, where my tongue has been and where my cock will be.”

The only thing Louis doesn’t like about blowjobs, and now rimming, is that he doesn’t get to talk. Harry loves Louis talking dirty to him. And Louis loves listening to Harry’s responses and watching him. Nothing gets Louis harder than knowing Harry’s turned on.

He keeps talking as he places one, two and then three slick, wet fingers into Harry. About how beautiful Harry is, how soft and glorious his bum is, about how Louis’s fingers are going to find that bit that feels amazing – and then they do.

Then Louis lies down on the bed next to Harry and says, “Stop looking so overwhelmed by my brilliant fingers and get on me.”

Harry whacks him on the chest, but pushes himself up. Louis realises how hard he is, how close to the edge, when Harry’s fingers touch his cock to roll a condom on.

The feeling of Harry lowering himself down is always slightly better than Louis remembers it, slightly better than Louis could possibly imagine.

Louis isn’t making words anymore, just noises. And he looks at Harry and Harry is looking at him, and it’s still too much. Even after all this time, it’s too much. Harry leans forward and kisses him, and he can feel Harry’s cock rub between their bellies.

Harry sits back up and starts grinding down in earnest. Each movement exquisite. Louis reaches out and put his hand around Harry’s cock. He’s babbling various words like ‘amazing’ and ‘come’, but mostly ‘Harry’, and Harry looks lovely and pleased with himself.

Louis’ orgasm almost comes as a surprise, he’s so overwhelmed with pleasure. But Harry does something with his hips, and Louis is there. Harry follows, and Louis has beautiful, sticky Harry cum all over his chest.

Louis is glad that Harry was riding him because he’s not even sure he would have the energy to collapse right now. He’s so overwhelmed with Harry of the present and the possibility of Harry every day in the future.

Harry apparently has more presence of mind because Louis feels a warm flannel on his stomach. He doesn’t necessarily want Harry washed off him, but he knows it’s a good idea.

When Harry goes to leave again, Louis whines “Stay? Nap?” And then Harry is there. All he wants now is to close his eyes and have Harry in his arms.

They wake up, have tea, say hi to Nick and then leave him, telling him they need to practice with their new bed.

The next morning, Harry’s alarm clock wakes them both up. Harry makes porridge. He has class, and Louis has a 9 o’clock appointment. Harry walks with Louis part of the way – and then gives him directions.

Louis looks up at the four-story brick building. It doesn’t look like a particularly fun place to be.

He tells the receptionist that he is here to sign on. Apparently he doesn’t say it loud enough, because she makes him say it again.

He has to wait. He waits a long time with lots of other lads (there are some girls and some older people, but they are mostly lads). He thinks of Harry. He thinks of giving speeches and people listening. He tries not to think of all these other people who want jobs.

When he finally gets to see someone, there are forms to fill out. He fills in his name and address, he doesn’t have a phone number. It wants his occupation – he skips that and fills in his date of birth and work history.

When everything else is done, he stares at that occupation box some more. What is he supposed to say? After everything?

He writes down MINER in block capitals. Fuck them. He is a miner. That is important.

He hands in the forms and waits for them to be processed so he can get his money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most ridiculous question asked while writing this fic: "Which shirt could Harry styles be wearing in the 1980s if he got it from an op shop?" 
> 
> Lots of sharing of Harry Styles shirts followed, but then Harry ruined out hard work with the shirt he wore on SNL, which demanded I rewrite the scene so he could wear it.
> 
> Come to my tumblr [dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram](http://dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram.tumblr.com). I'm going to post imges and video that I found while researching this fic (the TV shows are actual tv shows, the banners are actual banners, the copies of 1980s feminist magazines are actual copies of 1980s feminist magazines). I'd love to hear comments or questions.


	5. Epilogue

_5 November 2014_

The week after her first visit, Ruby went back to the Museum to pick up her photocopying and see if she could find any more information about Harry and Louis.

The night after she’d found the letters, she’d googled their names, but found nothing. She’d watched a video about a big fundraising party that Manchester LGSM had organised, but if Harry or Louis were in the video, she didn’t know which ones they might be. She wanted to know more. She wanted to find out about them – and there was nothing.

At her second visit to The Manchester People’s Museum, Ruby took careful notes of all the different names that were mentioned. But there were no surnames. Nick and Cara and Jesse and Matt and Paul – she couldn’t do anything with these names. They wouldn’t help her find out what happened to Harry and Louis.

Ruby did keep trying to find more information about them. She’d try Google searches, she’d go through pages of people called Louis on Facebook, looking for one who was old and gay.

Occasionally she thought about making a zine based on their letters, or a YouTube video. Hoping that it would go viral and she’d meet them that way. But she didn’t want to share the letters. They were hers.

One night, after re-reading the photocopies, she realised she wanted more from her life than a crush on her straight best friend. Maisie was wonderful, but she wasn’t going to fall in love with Ruby. Ruby could have more than that. It became a mantra: “Find someone who will be as brave for you as Harry was for Louis, and Louis was for Harry.”

Ruby found girls to kiss and found all sorts of bravery of her own. The following year, she went down to London Pride. She marched near the LGSM banner. She ended up talking to an older woman (be brave like Harry and Louis) and asked if there was anyone there from LGSM Manchester, but there wasn’t. They were all from London.

The night Ruby’s girlfriend broke up with her, she e-mailed the People’s Museum and asked if she could look at the Manchester LGSM files again. She wanted to look at the actual letters between Harry and Louis, not her photocopies. She didn’t know if she was looking for answers or wallowing in her own sorrow, but she also didn’t care.

She liked holding them again, the colour of the ink, the feel of the paper. Once she’d finished re-reading the letters between Harry and Louis and trying not to cry on the documents, she looked through the second folder of Manchester LGSM material. Just in case she’d missed something that would help her find them. She needed them to tell her that love wasn’t completely useless.

She opened up a poster that had been folded in four – she hadn’t bothered looking at it last time, but there might be notes on the back or something. When she unfolded it, a piece of paper fell out. Ruby picked it up – it was Harry’s writing. She smoothed it out and saw the date and ‘Dear Louis’. She was going to find out what happened. She closed her eyes for a moment. She just wanted for them to be happy. Then she read it.

 

> 21 December 1985
> 
> Dear Louis,
> 
> Happy birthday my love. I’m sorry I’m not there and we can’t be together. It feels rubbish that we’ll be together for my birthday next year, but we can’t be together for yours and that we can’t be together for Christmas. I hope we get to be together for your birthday or Christmas one day. More than once – over and over again.
> 
> I got you a birthday present. It’s in the outside pocket of your bag on the left.
> 
> I told Gemma about you. Maybe it won’t be too long ‘til we can have Christmas together. Ever since I went to university, I’ve felt sad that I can’t tell her anything because there was so much that I needed to keep secret. We went out for a walk together yesterday (not much to do in Holmes Chapel besides go for walks and drink tea). And she asked me if I was too cool for her now I was at Art College. I made her promise not to tell Mum and said that I had a boyfriend and was living with you in a squat and you used to be a miner.
> 
> Gem gave me a hug and then told me that she didn’t know which would shock Holmes Chapel the most (she supported the miners’ strike too – she showed me her badge later). She told me that she had been to a talk at university on gay liberation and had realised how badly gay people were treated. She'd decided then that she supports gay people.
> 
> It felt so lovely – well you know that with your family – not to have to hide myself and to be able to tell the truth. She wanted to know all about you – I showed her a photograph (which I’d taken with me so I could talk to it if I missed you too much). I think she approves. She’ll probably come up to Manchester to meet you sometime in the new year – I hope you don’t mind.
> 
> We’re going to talk a bit about whether I can tell Mum. I think she’ll be alright – but it’s risking a lot. Gemma’s maybe going to feel her out for me. I’d so love to have what you have – and then we could have Christmas together.
> 
> Gemma said that I was the first gay person she knew – I didn’t tell her that that’s not true – but it can’t be can it?
> 
> This was supposed to be a birthday letter and it’s full of family news. Well they’re your family as well, because we’re family.
> 
> I love you so much and miss you so much, even though it’s been only just over a day.
> 
> Love, love, love, love, love.
> 
> Harry
> 
> PS When I get back I’m going to give you the best birthday sex you’ve ever had. My mouth will be all over you. If you have any special requests please send them by return. (Preferably detailed – otherwise how will I know exactly what you want?)

Ruby blushed as she finished the letter. That was pretty explicit – and Harry was blatantly hanging out for a reply full of porn. She paid the money to use her camera for this one – she was too embarrassed to ask the lady to photocopy it.

Ruby walked out into a summer evening of sunshine. They’d made up. They were together. Harry had told his sister and maybe his Mum.

Ruby bought herself an ice lolly and watched the river go by. She would be alright. Even when she had a broken heart, there were still ice lollies and sunny days. She wasn’t going to look for Harry and Louis anymore though. She would leave them, young, together and in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really loved writing this fic and it ended up being important to me in ways I couldn't really have imagined. I'm really proud of it. I'd love to hear from you over at [my tumblr](http://dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram.tumblr.com).


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